Arista Snape & the Bronze Dragons
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Sev & Arista go to America for a relaxing vacation to visit their Amarotti relatives and attend a christening, but a cabal of necromancers are slaughtering bronze dragons! Can Severus and Arista stop them before they start a war between dragon and wizard?
1. An Unexpected Request

**A/N: This is a sequel to my other novel, The Very Best Thing. So, before you read this, might I suggest you read or at least glance at that one, otherwise you'll be quite confused. Don't own Severus or make any money off him, this is just for fun.******

**﻿***** this adventure takes place inbetween books 4 and 5 of the Harry Potter series **  
It was a balmy afternoon in early June, with a warm southern breeze and plenty of  
sunshine. The perfect day to do some early gardening. Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School, was pruning the rosebushes that flanked the small flagstone path leading to the back door of his little house on Spinner's End.

Unlike an ordinary man, Severus did not need to use pruning shears to accomplish  
this task, for he was a master wizard, and used magic instead. With a wave of his ebony wand, he caused the extra branches to fall away from the rosebush, these he later gathered to use in some of his potions. The Potions Master was a tall lanky man with a sharp-featured face, alert dark eyes and long black hair which was pulled back in a tail on this day. He was wearing a scruffy-looking blue T-shirt and jeans and his sneakers were mud-spattered from the wet soil.

A tall box hedge surrounded his small backyard, giving him much-needed privacy  
from his nosy neighbors, and ensuring that he could work magic without worrying about Muggles seeing him. A lavender-tinged gray cat was curled up asleep in the middle of the path, blissfully ignorant of the activity going on in the garden. Lounging in the shade of a small apple tree was a large golden hound dog, contentedly gnawing on a large ham bone.

Off to the left of the apple tree was the small herb garden, where Severus's daughter, Arista, was picking lavender and chamomile flowers from the assortment of herbs growing there. She was small and slight for her fourteen years, making some people assume she was younger than her actual age. She had short auburn hair and her dark eyes were narrowed in concentration as she examined each of the plants in the small plot, making sure each of them was healthy. She too was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but hers was a mint green color and currently speckled with bits of purple and yellow petals. She carried a gathering basket over one arm, where she placed her flowers.

Properly dried and stored, they were necessary ingredients for sleeping drafts, or a calming tea, or putting in a sachet or a potpourri bowl, all of which Arista had done since finishing up her first term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Snape did not believe in letting Arista spend her whole summer sleeping and hanging out with her friends doing nothing but gossiping, the way teenage girls were wont to do.

Luckily, Arista was not one for idle gossip, and she quickly grew bored with sleeping till eleven every day for a week straight. She enjoyed being up and about and liked to keep busy, so her father's little projects in the herb garden did not meet with the expected cries of protest. In fact, she enlisted the help of her friends, Mel Seton and Tricia Greenbough, in making the sachets and teas and potpourri, which made the work go twice as fast. Most of them she intended for gifts for her grandmother and aunts in America, though a few she kept for her own use and also allowed her girlfriends to keep a sachet and a potpourri bowl as a reward for helping her.

Her friends considered that a fair trade-off for a few afternoons of drying flowers,  
especially when they also got to eat supper over Arista's as well. Severus was an excellent cook, and both girls looked forward to his meals, which were made without magic and tasted fantastic, much better than anything their own mothers prepared at home. The professor did not mind the extra guests, as he usually cooked too much food for two people, and his students were very appreciative of his cooking expertise.

He had learned to cook from his late wife, Amelia, who had been an Italian-  
American wizard. She had been dead for fourteen years, but Severus had not forgotten what she had taught him. Over the past three days he had made a hearty chicken orzo soup, a delicious shrimp risotto, and Tricia's favorite—fried chicken with biscuits and gravy. She'd taken the recipe home to her mother, but said the chicken didn't taste quite as good as Professor Snape's.

"Something was missing," she lamented to Arista the next afternoon, as they  
crumbled dried flowers into small squares of purple and blue satin and tied them with white lace ribbons.

Arista laughed at the mournful expression on Tricia's round face. "That's the secret ingredient."

"What secret ingredient?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me," Arista shrugged. "Said that was for him to  
know and for me to figure out. I think he was being deliberately mysterious."

Tricia sighed. "Never mind. We'll never pry it out of him, he keeps secrets forever.  
I'll just eat dinner here more often."

So she did, along with their other best friend, Mel, who was a tall girl with curly dark hair and blue eyes, the polar opposite of Trish, who was short and round with blond hair and brown eyes.

Arista was still trying to figure out just what the secret ingredient was, for she loved a good mystery almost as much as she did healing people and animals, even as she gathered more flowers. Just then, a large great-horned owl flew down and perched on the low branch of the apple tree, right above her dog Scout's head. The dog glanced up, whuffed softly, as if to say oh it's only an owl, and went back to chewing his bone. He was accustomed to strange goings-on in this household, such as owls that flew about in broad daylight with letters attached to their legs or carried in their beaks.

Severus looked up at the dog's soft bark, then went over to take the large manila  
envelope from the owl's beak. "Thanks," he said, giving the bird a piece of beef jerky in return, its payment for delivering the mail. The owl hooted appreciatively, then flew off on silent wings.

Arista came over, eyeing the envelope curiously. "What's that, Dad? Another  
catalog?"

"No. It's a letter from Colin and Jenna," he answered, opening the envelope. Colin  
and Jenna Flynn were American wizards, Dark Hunters, and once they'd been Arista's guardians and teachers, back when she'd lived in America.

"What's it say? Did Jenna have her baby?" Arista asked, her eyes dancing with  
excitement.

"I'd assume so. If you'll give me a minute to read **my **mail, Miss Nosy, you'll find  
out." He pulled out two sheets of brilliant goldenrod stationary as well as an accompanying photo. He unrolled the first one, which was written in fancy calligraphy, and read the following announcement aloud.

**"**_Colin and Jennika Flynn are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, _**_Amelia Maureen,_**_ born on May 15th at 8AM, weight 8lbs and 16 inches long_**." **"They named her after Mom," Arista noted in surprise. "Did you know they were  
going to do that?"

Severus nodded. "Colin said they were considering it if the baby was a girl. She was their best friend, you know. I said Amelia would have liked that and they should do what felt best to them. Guess they took my advice."

"Maureen's after Colin's mom," Arista informed him, smiling. "May I see the picture?"  
Severus passed her the photo. "Oh, she's so cute!"

It showed a grinning Jenna holding a tiny dark-haired baby wrapped in a soft pink  
receiving blanket, sleeping contentedly, while a proud Colin stood behind them, one arm around his wife. The big blond wizard looked as happy as if he'd just won a million Galleons. Like all wizard photos, the picture moved, showing the parents laughing and waving and the baby yawning and opening her eyes, which were a hazy blue.

"She's got blue eyes, like Mom's!" exclaimed Arista. "Think it's a sign?"

Severus looked at her askance. "A _sign_? As in a spiritual connection? Don't tell me you bought into all that nonsense Trelawney spouts about portents and so forth." He rolled his eyes. He had no patience for the mystical nonsense his colleague the Divination teacher was prone to telling her students. "All babies have blue eyes. They'll probably change later on, most of them do."

"You're right. Neither Colin nor Jenna has blue eyes. What else do they say?"

Snape unrolled the second sheet of paper, which was written in Jenna's flowing  
script. "Let's see. _The baby and I are doing fine. Colin is, of course, over the moon, __  
__thinks she's the most perfect child ever born._" Here, Snape chuckled. "Just wait, my friend, until she's a mouthy teenage brat, we'll see if you still feel the same way then."

"He'll love her anyway, just like you do me," his daughter put in impishly.

"Think so?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Dad!"

He favored her with one of his rare smiles, then continued. "Where was I? . . ._I told __  
__him to wait a few years and see if he thinks the same thing when she's thirteen and driving him crazy—_my thoughts exactly!—_We named her for Amelia, of course, to honor the best friend either of us ever had and for Colin's mother. She reminds me a great deal of Arista at that age, very alert and curious. Colin swears she recognizes him, even though I know she's too young for that kind of thing. We've been discussing dates for her christening and that in turn led to choosing godparents. Colin chose his sister, Felicity, for her godmother. I have no brothers, but I immediately thought of you Severus, since you saved my life last summer and have become as good a friend to us as Amelia was. So, how would you like to be a godfather to your wife's namesake? Rather fitting, don't you think, Uncle Sev? The christening is set for June 24th, a Saturday. If you agree, just send us an owl and we'll send Fireflash over to pick up you and Arista. If the notion of being a godparent to my probably bratty kid terrifies you, don't worry, you can still come to her christening. Let us know what you decide. ___

_Love, __  
__Jenna, Colin, and baby Amelia_

Severus said nothing for a few minutes, shocked speechless by this unexpected  
request. _They want_**_ me_**_ for the baby's godfather? I never expected this . . although maybe I should have, since if Amelia had lived, she'd have been the child's godmother along with me. _

"Are you going to say yes, Dad?" Arista broke into his thoughts. "I think it'd be  
supercool if you were her godfather."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I mean, who better to protect her than you? Other than her parents, I mean."

"Who indeed?" he mused, mulling the idea over. Being a godparent in the wizarding world had more than just a religious connotation. It also carried with it the responsibility of the godparent to protect and teach the child magic if the parents were deceased. Then slowly, he nodded. "Jenna was right. It _is _rather fitting. I'll send them a reply with Nightfall tonight telling them I accept. We were planning to go and see your grandparents in New Jersey this summer, so this will be like killing two birds with one stone."

"Great! I can't wait to see them and their house in the Poconos again. They live in  
the middle of a game preserve, Dad, and the deer come right up to their back deck and eat from your hand. So do the songbirds and sometimes there are wild turkeys too. Scout would love it there, there's miles of woods to run in and Comfrey could make friends with Surra, Jenna's tabby. Can we take them with us, Dad? Please?"

She gave him her most pleading look. "Very well," he sighed reluctantly. "God  
forbid we should leave them home the way normal people do when they go on vacation. Besides, I still haven't given Colin a proper thank you for giving me a dog I never asked for," Snape said sarcastically.

"Oh, come on, Dad. You love Scout as much as I do, only you won't admit it."

"Love that baying fleabag?" Snape snorted derisively. "In your dreams, Arista."

"Sure, whatever you say," his daughter agreed, hiding a smirk.

The Potions Master folded up the letter and slipped it and the photo back into the  
envelope. "Let's go wash up for supper. Now I need to figure out what to give the baby for a christening gift. None of the usual things, like money or clothes. I want it to be something . . .different. Something she can remember me by."

"Hmmm. . . ." Arista frowned, thinking hard. Then she snapped her fingers. "I've  
got it! How about a piece of jewelry?"

"Yes, but what?"

"Ummm . . .what about a bracelet? A charm bracelet? You could give her a different charm every year for her birthday."

"Good idea. But not just any charms. I'll give her mini crystal, glass, and silver  
flasks, with a concentrated potion inside of them."

"A potions charm bracelet! I like that, it's way cool, and nobody else will ever be  
able to match that, Dad."

"It makes sense too, since I'm a Potions Master as well as her godfather." Severus declared, pleased. "And along with each charm, I can give her the formula for the potion and the history as well."

"Still the professor, huh, Dad?" his daughter laughed. "Can't stop teaching, even  
when you're out of the classroom."

"Well, it wouldn't mean anything if I just sent her a charm without explaining what  
it was and how it was used, now would it?"

"Guess not. Will she be able to use the potions in the charms?"

"If necessary, yes. Though the potions will be concentrated, and I wouldn't  
recommend it unless it were an emergency, sometimes the effects can be too strong and take days to wear off." Severus explained. He looked thoughtfully down at the gathering basket on Arista's arm. "I think the first charm should be a Sleeping Draft, especially since you've gone through all that trouble picking lavender and chamomile, Arista."

"Sounds good to me. Better make up an extra dose, though, since Colin and Jenna  
will probably need it, if all the stories I've heard about newborns never sleeping are true."

"They are. I'll make up a couple of bottles after I've distilled enough for the charm.  
Another thing they could probably use is a double strength chamomile and mint tea elixir. It's good for settling colicky babies, among other things."

"How do you know about that, Dad? You've never taken care of a baby."

He slanted her a wry glance. "You aren't the only one who reads _Healer's Digest_,  
you know. Besides, that's one of a Potion Master's requirements, to know the uses for all the elixirs he brews." He brushed off his jeans, which had bits of bark and rose petals clinging to them.

"Can I help you make them?"

"Yes, it'll be good practice for you. But we'll do that tomorrow. Right now I think  
a bath and supper are in order."

"No argument there, Dad," she gestured, and the basket with the flowers she'd  
gathered vanished, only to reappear in the basement on Severus's lab table.

Then the two headed inside, arguing good-naturedly about what to cook for supper, followed by the cat and the dog, who knew that the word "supper" meant free food and lots of it.

* * * * *

Later on, Arista called Trish and Mel on her spellophone, telling them of the sudden change in plans for the summer. "So we're going to be away for, uh, who knows, probably a few weeks, I guess. Something tells me that once we meet my grandparents, they aren't gonna be satisfied with a hi, nice to meet you and we'll only stay a few days routine."

"I wouldn't think so, you're their long lost granddaughter, after all," Mel reminded  
her. "I wonder what they must have thought when your father sent them that letter in May?"

"If it'd been me, I'd have passed out," Arista said. "I mean, think about it, your  
daughter's been dead for fourteen years and along comes this total stranger, a Potions Master from a British wizarding academy, telling them that he was married to her and he's got a daughter they never knew about. He's lucky they didn't have a heart attack right there."

"Too right. You have one weird family, Snape." Mel snickered.

"Yeah, but they make my life interesting," Arista acknowledged with a laugh. "I  
wonder what they'll be like? I keep picturing my grandmother—I was named for her—as looking like my mom, but maybe I'm wrong. Oh, well, guess I'll know when I get there."

"Send me some pictures, girlfriend, I'm dying to know too."

"Will do. Hey, maybe when I get back, we could put together a photo album or  
something," Arista suggested.

"Sure. Tell Trish that, she's better at that kind of thing than I am," Mel suggested.  
Arista promised she would, then said goodbye and called her other friend, who like her also lived in a single parent household. Trish's mom, Glinda Greenbough, had once been a model and was now a fashion consultant for many witch magazines. She lived alone with only her daughter, since she had divorced her husband years ago. She was a very demanding woman, and often drove Trish crazy because she wanted her daughter to be a carbon copy of her.

Trish picked up on the second chime, tapping the stud on the side of her ring  
component which allowed the image gel in the ring to project Arista's face and words to her and vice versa. "Hi, Trish. I just had to call and tell you the news," Arista began, then outlined her new summer vacation. "I know we were going to go to that fashion convention with your mom in two weeks, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel."

"Bummer. I was really looking forward to it too," the other girl sighed. "Well,  
there's always next year. Besides, your family's more important. Guess it's just and me and Mel for the whole of June and probably July too, since Kit's away visiting his relatives in Ireland and Drake's off with his dad and sister in America too."

"Really? Did he say where he was going?"

"Uh, New York, I think. Maybe you could look him up or something."

"Well, I could try, though I don't think we'll be visiting New York, even though it's  
right next to New Jersey. We'll be going to Pennsylvania first, for baby Amelia's  
christening, and then we'll go straight to the Jersey shore, since that's where my  
grandparents spend their summers, in a house near Point Pleasant."

"I can't believe that your old teachers asked your dad to be a _godfather_!" Trish  
repeated. "Was he, like, shocked speechless?"

"Uh, you could say that," Arista laughed, recalling the expression on Snape's face.  
"I thought for a minute he wasn't going to agree, but then I think he felt obligated, especially since Colin and Jenna took care of me for two years, and he said yes. He's making the baby a potions charm bracelet for a christening gift."

"Wow! I've never heard of that before. What is it?"

Arista explained, and Trish sighed in envy. "You're so lucky, Arista. Your dad gives  
the coolest presents. My mom always gets me the same things every year, clothes and make- up, as if I didn't have a ton of them already. And my dad, he just sends me money, which is nice, I guess, but I'd rather have a present, know what I mean? D'you think he'd mind if you adopted me? I'd sleep in the corner of your kitchen and do all the cleaning for free."

"Who do you think you are, Cinderella? Get a grip, Trish! You know you're always  
welcome at my house, you're more like my sister than my best friend, you and Mel both." Arista said softly, making a mental note to ask her father to create a piece of jewelry for Tricia's birthday, which was on July 20th.

"Thanks, Arista. I was never sure if I was imposing, coming over so much. I know  
how your dad values his privacy."

"Only when he's trying out new potions and stuff. Otherwise, I think he's glad for  
company, he was alone too long before I came to live with him," Arista said knowingly. "And he likes both of you, if he didn't, he'd have said something to me before now, and he hasn't, and you know he's never had trouble expressing his dislike of certain students."

"Like Brittany Marsh. Or Harry Potter," Tricia said. "Brittany, I can understand,  
she's such a stuck-up snot, but what's Harry done to him?"

"I'm not real sure about this, but I think part of it might have something to do with  
Harry's father. Something went on between my dad and James Potter when they were in school together and it wasn't nice. I think that's part of it, and also the fact that Harry's, well, a rule breaker and disrespectful to my dad sometimes. You know how he hates kids that talk back to him, or ones that disregard rules when it suits them."

"That's for sure! So, you've_ never_ answered him back?"

"Not in school. At home, well, yeah, I've mouthed off to him a time or two." Arista  
admitted. "And gotten in trouble for it too, that's how I know just how mad it makes him. He's not always the easiest person to live with, believe me. But then, neither am I. Most of the time though, we get along really well, thank God. It could be a hell of a lot worse, given his temper and mine. But see, I know how far I can go before he loses it, unlike Potter, who pushes him until he explodes and then complains about it afterwards."

"If you're going to bait a dragon, better be prepared to take the consequences," Tricia quoted softly.

"Exactly. From what I've seen, Harry and Brittany still haven't learned that lesson.  
Well, maybe Marsh has, a little, after that detention he gave her at the beginning of the year."

Tricia smirked at that memory, for Marsh was their nemesis, a Slytherin girl who  
delighted in tormenting students she saw as beneath her. "Yeah, she's never gonna forget that. And neither will anyone else! Serves her right too."

Arista nodded. "Well, I'll be seeing you when I get back. Got to go, he's calling me  
for dinner. Bye." She closed the small glittering blue disk, the size of a mirror compact, and slipped it in the pocket of her jeans. Then she bounded down the stairs, tonight they were having stuffed peppers, one of her favorites.

After they had cleaned up, a process that didn't take long thanks to their magical  
cleaning spells, and given the begging animals the ground beef and rice stuffing out of two peppers, Arista challenged Professor Snape to a game of Wizard Chess.

"What's this? You're asking to get your butt whipped again?" he smirked.

"Not this time," she declared with a determined gleam in her eye. "This time I'm  
gonna win back my two Galleons and beat you for a change."

"Promises, promises." He began to set up the chessboard. Unlike ordinary chess, in Wizard Chess, the pieces moved themselves and when one was captured, it got removed from the board, literally, by being destroyed by the opposing piece.

This was the third game she'd played in three nights and so far she'd never managed to beat her father, who was an incredibly good chess player.

"Ready?" she asked, slipping into the chair opposite him at the dining room table,  
which was barely large enough to seat five people.

"White or black? Loser picks," he answered, putting two Galleons on the table next to him.

"White. Black's more your style," she answered. The white pieces stood to attention.

"It doesn't matter what color I have, I'm still going to thrash you good, Arista," he  
said, his eyes gleaming challengingly.

She shook her head. "I beg to differ, sir. I'm going to nail your hide to a wall. Just  
wait and see."

"How long will I be waiting? Until next year?" he inquired silkily.

"You wish." Arista moved first, directing her white pawn ahead one square.

Two hours later they were still playing, but Snape had managed to take out Arista's bishop, leaving her slightly vulnerable to his queen.

He studied the board idly. "You've improved some from the last time," he remarked.

"I'm a quick study," she answered.

"Too bad that won't save you," he said, then moved his queen and took out her  
knight and her queen in one move, leaving her king defenseless. "Check and mate, I believe."

"Damn! How did you do that?"

"I saw patterns. And that's all I'm going to tell you. A master never gives away his  
secrets," he said, then slipped the Galleons back into his pocket.

"I'll get you next time. At least my knight took out your bishop. What did you think  
of that move?"

"That was clever, I'll give you that. But it just wasn't good enough to beat the  
master. You can try again tomorrow."

"Did you play chess with Mom?"

"Oh, yes. And while she was very good, I won more games than she did. But there  
was one game that went on for two days, now that I think about it," Snape smiled  
reminiscently.

"Who won?"

"Do I _really_ need to answer that?" he rolled his eyes.

"Someday, I _am_ going to beat you," she vowed.

"When I'm senile, maybe," he teased, grinning wickedly.

"The end of the summer. I'll bet you, uh, my whole week's allowance."

"Three Galleons? You're on. And if you win, which you won't, I'll double it."

"Deal!" she held out a hand and he shook it. "Now, what kind of book can I buy with  
six Galleons?"

"Excuse me? You haven't won anything yet."

"But I will. Just watch me."

He laughed. "You've got the Amarotti stubbornness, my girl. Don't quit until you're  
dead, and even then you can still come back and kick someone's ass."

"Like Mom kicked Nightshade's. Just remember you said that, Dad."

"Skill will win over stubbornness every time," he said loftily. "And by summer's end I'll be three Galleons richer."

"That's what you think," she said. Then she summoned the plate of chocolate chip  
cookies from the kitchen with a snap of her fingers. "And now, it's time for dessert." She promptly took three cookies. "I'm starving."

"So am I," he said, and took four of them. "Beating my know-it-all daughter at chess always makes me hungry."

She made a face at him, then bit into her cookie, thinking,_ I'm gonna make you eat __  
__those words, Dad. Summer's end, then you'll see. _******

It took about a week for Severus to make the bracelet and distill the Sleeping Draft, putting the concentrated purple drop in a tiny crystal flask with a filigree silver stopper. He'd made the bracelet with silver links rather than gold, since silver was more durable and then strengthened the metal with magic. He'd also placed a shatterproof charm on the flask, knowing how careless children often were with their possessions. Of course, the baby wouldn't be allowed to wear the bracelet until she was older, but he took precautions anyway.

He wrote up the formula for a standard Sleeping Draft on a small piece of parchment as well as a history of all the ingredients used in it and the ways in which famous wizards and witches had used the potion. He'd signed the second parchment "Uncle Sev", since that was how he knew the Flynns would refer to him, though it felt odd, naming himself a relation to a tiny baby he would hardly ever see, except every so often on holidays, if possible. Unless they decided to send her to him for a month or so during the summer, once she was around eleven or so.

_  
__Always assuming, of course, that I'm still around by then_, he thought darkly, for with Voldemort now returned as he had predicted, nothing was certain anymore. Unknown to any save Dumbledore, he'd resumed his role as spy for the Order of the Phoenix, and the new fanaticism he'd sensed in the Death Eaters was particularly frightening. He thought it might even be worse than before, for now they were older, wilier, and more steeped in darkness. Worse still, they were persuading their offspring to follow them down the dark path, and Severus did not doubt that unless something were done, they would soon have a new generation of Death Eaters on their hands.

He wished desperately he could send Arista away from here until Voldemort was  
dealt with once and for all, but he knew she would never agree to leave him, even if he ordered her to go. _I'd have to tie her up and stuff her in a sack, and even then she'd find a way back to me first chance she got. Besides, I have a sickening feeling we're going to need her healing talent in this upcoming war. Need it badly. She's our ace in the hole, and much as I want to, I can't let her leave. All I can do is protect her as much as I can and make certain the other side never realizes just how strong she is. _

He had no illusions about how the Dark One or his followers would react if they  
knew a Healer of such power was again abroad in the world. He had tried to downplay her affair with the Longbottoms as a fluke to Lucius Malfoy, so the other wizard would not scrutinize her too closely. Thus far, it seemed to have worked, for Lucius had not inquired about Arista again. If the Death Eaters ever knew the truth, there was no doubt in Snape's mind that they would act either to capture her for their own use or eliminate her totally, thus depriving either side of her talent forever.

Severus would die before he allowed either of those things to happen, which was  
why he used all of his talent at misdirection and subterfuge to prevent the dark wizards from learning the truth about his extraordinary daughter. _I only pray it's enough, though if necessary I'll break my masquerade, if it comes to a choice between her life and my cover. The time is coming when I'm going to have to reveal myself anyhow, if Potter can ever be made strong enough to challenge Voldemort the way Dumbledore intended. Severus shook his head, his lip curling in disgust whenever he thought of James's son. There's too damn much of his father in him, all that reckless devil-may-care courage, and not enough of his mother's brains and determination. Dumbledore thinks that's an asset, but I know better. That kind of stupidity is going to get him and all the rest of us killed. He's lucky he didn't __  
__die in that graveyard that night of the Triwizard Tournament the way poor Diggory did. It was pure chance that the wands linked through Priori Incantatem, but we can't count on that happening again. Voldemort's not stupid, he's going to be waiting for the next chance, and Potter has to be prepared to fight, and fight hard._

The Potions Master sighed heavily, for he knew very well who Dumbledore was going to ask train the stubborn mouthy brat in the way to block a dark wizard's magic. _Good old Severus Snape, of course. And God help the both of us, because I'm not going to have any patience whatsoever for his rebellious attitude. I can't afford to. I didn't spend fifteen years of my life risking my neck as a secret agent only to have it wasted by a smartmouthed kid with more guts than brains. And Black better just stay the hell out of my way while I'm working with Potter, and not go whining to Dumbledore about how hard I'm being on the poor coddled darling. This is our last chance to rid ourselves of Voldemort, and I'll do whatever I have to in order to take him out, including beating every lick of sense I can into that boy's skull. Potter can't match Voldemort for sheer power, so he has to use his head, not something he's accustomed to doing, unfortunately. That's the only way we're going to win this conflict, by being smart __  
__and staying one step ahead of our enemies. _

But all of that was yet to come. So far, Albus had not requested his teaching expertise, though Snape knew that summons was not going to be long in coming. He expected the older wizard would probably ask him sometime after he'd returned from the States, when he was done settling personal affairs, and could concentrate fully on his obligations to the Order. And then, they would see what he could do with his reluctant student. He was not looking forward to that time at all, but then as he'd told Arista once, he did plenty of things he didn't want to.

He tucked the completed charm bracelet in a soft pink velvet pouch and then placed it and the papers accompanying it into a white box, which he tied up with a green and gold ribbon._ There. That's one task out of the way. Now all I need to do is pack up the rest of my things and make sure Arista's ready and we can send for Fireflash. It'll be good to get away from here for a bit, and I'm looking forward to seeing Colin and Jenna again as well as my new goddaughter. Hopefully, this will be a nice restful vacation. _

Fireflash, the great bronze dragon, landed in the glen and folded his wings neatly, his azure eyes surveying the two wizards and their various satchels and trunks, plus Comfrey's carrier and Scout's crate.

"Hello, Arista sweetie!" the dragon greeted her, baring his teeth in a slight dragonish smile. "How ya been?"

"Great! How about you, Flash?"

"Been keepin', I guess. I've been doing more commercial flights these days." He  
looked over at Severus. "Long time, no see, Sev. Are you all set for your first trans-Atlantic flight?"

"As ready as we'll ever be, Flash," he replied, gesturing to all of the items. "There's the two of us and the menagerie. Think you can handle it all?"

"Not a problem." Fireflash eyed the dog crate and the cat carrier. "Got a dog and a  
cat, I see."

"That's right, and if you'd waited a month we could have added a unicorn and an  
elephant too, with the way my daughter collects strays," Severus remarked dryly.

"Dad! I didn't bring home Scout, he was a Christmas present," Arista objected.

"And how many hints did you send Colin, hmm?" Snape asked, eyeing his daughter shrewdly.

"None! Honest, I never even suspected he was going to send us a magehound."

"You've got a magehound?" the dragon inquired. "They're good dogs, Sev.  
Expensive as anything, especially if they've been trained to track by a Hunter."

"This one was retired, worked with the New York force for twelve years before we  
got him," Snape told the bronze.

"He's_ that_ Scout?" Fireflash breathed out sharply in surprise. "The one that tracked Beau Charles all the way across the Rockies? Sev, that dog's a legend on the force. He won Best Magehound of the Year five times running, and he holds the record for the longest trail and the most collars of any dog in the Department of Defense. Colin must have pulled some strings to get him delivered to you. That's some dog you've got there, Snape."

"Really? Colin never told me any of that, I just assumed this was a dog nobody  
wanted and that's why he gave him to us." Severus admitted.

"See, Dad? I_ told_ you he was special."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You were right for once. Now go and help Flash get all these things attached to his dragonsaddle."

"Better let me handle it, Sev," Fireflash cautioned. "I'm more experienced at this."  
He spoke three words in dragonspeech and all of the parcels flew up and attached  
themselves to the various leather straps and hooks on his harness. Scout's crate and Comfrey's carrier went into Roc-hide nets on either side of their seats, nets that were securely fastened to ensure the maximum safety of their occupants afterwards.

"Do me a favor, Arista, and double check all the fastenings," the bronze ordered.

Arista quickly walked up the dragon's foreleg and began to check all the straps and buckles, making certain everything was tied down tightly. It was. Then she strapped herself into the padded chair and prepared for takeoff. Her father followed a moment later, sitting on the seat in front of her.

"You both set?" Fireflash asked, swiveling his head around to peer at his passengers.

"We're good, Captain," Snape answered, speaking in respectful tones to the bronze.

"Okay. I'm going to breathe on you now, so you won't pass out at the altitude I'll  
be flying," the dragon said, then exhaled and a fine purple mist shot out of his mouth and enveloped them. "Breathe deeply now, you two."

The Snapes obeyed, inhaling the wintergreen tasting mist into their lungs eagerly.  
Unlike an Altitude Potion, Fireflash's mist breath did not have any bad side-effects, and it worked longer than any potion too, enabling them to fly for six hours without experiencing dizziness, nausea, or any other kind of flight-related problem, as well as being able to breathe the rarified air.

One of the reasons the dragon flew so high was to avoid being seen by Muggles,  
though he possessed another breath weapon that could make anyone forget they'd ever seen him, a cone of amnesiac gas. Bronze dragons possessed three breath weapons, dragonfire, the amnesiac cone, and a sleeping breath mist that could knock out several humans or one dragon.

The bronzes, in addition to being the only sentient dragon species left in the world,  
were also the most magical, and could cast spells just like a wizard, albeit without the need to use a wand. Their magic was mostly verbal, with the occasional gesture thrown in for emphasis, and some of their spells could be translated into a mist form, such as the rarified air spell. They could also inscribe spells on objects, such as one of their own scales, like the one Fireflash had given Arista last summer, which had a Dragonshape spell inscribed in it.

Arista had used the scale to defeat an insane giant that had attacked the school back in December, fighting the huge creature in Dragonshape. That battle had been witnessed by the entire school as well as the students of Beauxbaton's and Durmstrang, and it had gone down in the school annals as one of the wickedest fights in Hogwarts history. But though Arista had defeated the giant in the end by breathing on it, while it was trapped in the Black Lake with the help of the mermaid Water Mistress Amlioranee, her little escapade had horrified her father. After delivering a blistering lecture to her that had made her cry, Severus had hugged her and made her promise to never do anything so foolhardy again. Arista had promised, because she knew her father would never forgive himself if she were killed fighting some dark wizard or one of their allies.

Not that she planned to get involved in any more battles to the death with dark  
wizards. All she wanted was to enjoy the reunion with her former guardians and meet their new daughter, and later on her mother's side of the family, the Amarottis. That was enough of an adventure right there, as was this flight on Fireflash.

The bronze dragon could fly as fast as a jet when he chose to, as he was doing now, his head extended and his wings mere blurs on either side of his passengers. Both Severus and Arista were securely fastened into their seats by a magic-enhanced shoulder harness padded with sheepskin. The seats were heated with a warming spell, since the upper regions of the air were freezing. The warming spell had also been extended to include the pets, as had the rarified air spell. The seats on the dragonsaddle were comfortable, almost like a recliner, and there was plenty of leg room between them for Severus to stretch out without being cramped.

The dragon was an experienced flyer, he'd made this trip thousands of times before, and knew the quickest routes and the ways he could manipulate the wind to give his passengers a smooth ride, with the least turbulence.

Severus was feeling a bit sleepy, and decided to take a nap, since there wasn't much to see when Fireflash was flying so fast except clouds and sky. He shifted a bit in the seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Arista remained awake for a bit longer, but eventually she grew bored at seeing the same endless stretch of clouds and fell asleep too. Fireflash curled his head back to make sure his passengers were all right, noted they were sleeping, and gave a dragonish snort of amusement. It always amused him that humans were so prone to going to sleep while on his back, almost as if flying bored them.

To a bronze dragon, flying was the most essential thing of all, and no bronze dragon worth his wings ever went more than a day or two without soaring into the sky, unless they were in hibernation sleep or badly injured. Fireflash, in addition to being attached to the New York division of the US Magical Association as a Dark Hunter, also gave commercial flights to those wizards who didn't like traveling by Floo Network or couldn't Apparate over long distances or who disliked flying a broom more than two hours away. His flights were in high demand, and he charged top rates for them, seventy-five to a hundred Galleons per round trip, depending on the destination. A trans-Atlantic flight such as this one would have run paying passengers around one hundred to one hundred and twenty five Galleons. Of course, since Severus and Arista were long time friends of his, he didn't charge them anything.

Bronze dragons were notoriously choosy about their relationships with humans,  
given that the Dragonslayer Guild had nearly exterminated them over five centuries ago. This extended to Fireflash's commercial passengers. He reserved the right to terminate any contract if he didn't like the wizard's attitude, for bronze dragons are big on respect, and he didn't tolerate being treated like a broomstick with wings by anyone.

The one exception to that rule was Chief Hamilton's daughter, whom he disliked  
intensely, but was forced to put up with because she was his boss's offspring. She treated him like her own personal airline, and many times the great dragon had longed to toss her off his back into the ocean, in hopes that drowning would improve her spoiled attitude. Lucy Hamilton was enough to drive Jesus Himself insane. Sadly, the dragon's code of ethics as a Dark Hunter prevented him from acting on those impulses, but one of his favorite daydreams was of throwing the Hamilton brat into the middle of the Atlantic and telling her to swim home.

_What I wouldn't give to put the little snot in Sev's class for a day, and let him give __  
__her some much-needed lessons on discipline, the bronze thought with a smirk. He'd have her sobbing for her mother in an hour with that sarcastic tongue of his. Unless he strangled her first for whining nonstop. That would be almost as good as dropping her off in the middle of the Atlantic. _Then Fireflash heaved a regretful sigh. Nah, that would be too cruel of me._ I wouldn't inflict Lucy on my worst enemy, never mind a friend like Severus. But it'd be fun to watch, though! the dragon chuckled wickedly. _

He entertained himself for three hours imagining various scenarios where Snape  
utterly humiliated his boss's ill-tempered spoiled daughter, until Severus and Arista awoke from their nap. After ascertaining they were okay, he offered to sing for them.

Fireflash had an amazing repertoire of songs, especially those dealing with flying,  
from his centuries long association with humans, and he could sing all of them note- perfectly.

Severus had fond memories of the dragon singing the US Air Force song while flying with Amelia a day after her birthday, and so he requested Fireflash start out with that song. The bronze was only too happy to oblige, and soon launched into an enthusiastic rendition of the military tune.

From there the dragon progressed to various other songs, most of those dealing with the wonders of flying, like Volare, which he performed in Italian, to "Leaving on a Jet Plane" or the ever-popular wizard tune "She Borrowed My Broomstick". He even ventured into the more romantic tunes like "Up Where We Belong", "That Old Black Magic", "Love Potion Number Nine" and "Dragon Eyes", an old dragon courting song.

He had Arista in stitches when he did the Wicked Witch of the West theme from  
"The Wizard of Oz", which had been one of her favorite movies when she was a little kid at the Dowd's orphanage. "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!" the dragon hissed in a remarkable imitation of the evil green hag, making Arista laugh hysterically until tears poured down her face.

Snape had no idea what was so funny, not being up on Muggle movies, but he found himself smiling anyway at the dragon's wit and his daughter's merriment.

As they drew nearer to their destination, Fireflash began to sing more patriotic tunes, inviting Arista to sing along with him. They sang "The Star Spangled Banner" and "America the Beautiful", two songs which Snape was familiar with, though he knew better than to attempt to join in. A frog croaking was more melodious. Still, he enjoyed listening to the two of them, Arista had a surprisingly good soprano for an untrained singer.

Until Scout decided to join in uninvited.

The magehound's baying quickly made Snape wish he'd gone deaf, especially since the dog's crate was next to him. He thumped the top of it and yelled at the dog to be quiet. "Go back to sleep, fleabag!" he ordered irritably.

But the resourceful Fireflash managed to turn the dog's baying into something  
bearable by singing, "Hound Dog" by Elvis and letting the dog come in on the chorus. That one even made Severus laugh.

But once the dog's impromptu solo was over, Severus quickly requested that the  
dragon send the dog to sleep rather than endure another hour of the magehound's ringing bark. The dragon obliged, even though he found Severus' reaction to the dog's singing hilarious.

"We ought to be at New York harbor in another forty minutes or so," the dragon  
announced. "We'll swing by the Statue of Liberty and Manhattan, then we'll go straight to Pennsylvania and the Flynns."

"Sounds good to me," Snape said, relieved to know that their flight was almost over, for even the comfortable dragonsaddle was restrictive after nearly six hours of nonstop travel.

"How about a bit of Sinatra?" Fireflash inquired. "You know Ol' Blue Eyes, right, Arista?"

"You bet, Flash!" the girl answered, smiling. "Why don't you sing _New York New __  
__York?" _

"Took the words right out of my mouth, doll," the dragon chuckled. "You didn't  
raise any dumb kids, Sev." Then he launched into the theme song of the Big Apple, singing lustily.

Some forty minutes later they were circling up above the Statue of Liberty, concealed by Fireflash's masking spell, allowing Severus his first glimpse of the famous landmark, the symbol of freedom and justice for all.

He gazed down at the proud lady in her green robes, her torch held high and burning bright, and felt a lump come into his throat. _Oh Amelia, do you see where I am from heaven? I've crossed the ocean to your home, beloved. If only you were here waiting for me. _

He looked out over the soaring skyline of Manhattan, with the Empire State Building and the World Trade Center, and a part of his mind was impressed by it, but the majority of his thoughts were consumed by longing for an auburn-haired Dark Hunter whom he would never see again in this life.

He closed his eyes, and Amelia's face was before him, haloed by that blue nimbus,  
as she had been the last time he'd seen her, when she'd returned to protect Arista and him from Nightshade.

_But I am here, Sev. As long as you remember me, I'll always be with you, no matter __  
__where you go. I'll never leave you, beloved. _Her voice echoed in his head and he opened his eyes, blinking away the tears in them. _Welcome home, Amelia, my love. You live in my memory forever._ Then he gazed out over the Brooklyn Bridge and smiled, imagining his wife waving to him from below.


	2. Lullabies and Sleeping Drafts

**Lullabies and Sleeping Drafts**

﻿Fireflash had them out at the game preserve in the Poconos in a record twenty  
minutes, unseen by any air traffic controller, thanks to the dragon's masking spell. He  
landed in a broad grassy clearing about half a mile or so from the Flynn's home, it was a mobile home campground that was currently not in use due to sightings of several black bears. The rumors were false, the bronze dragon informed his wizard passengers with a devilish grin.

"The "bears" are really illusions cast by Colin and Jenna, so Muggles keep away  
from here. See, this is the only place I have to land when I'm meeting them, and the last thing we need is some stupid person seeing me one day and reporting it to the papers. Even though I could make them forget, better safe than sorry."

"Thank you for the ride over here, Flash," Snape said sincerely, climbing down off  
of the dragon's back.

Fireflash shrugged one wing, embarrassed. "Shoot, Sev, that was just a Sunday  
afternoon stroll for me. I'm not even all that tired."

"You aren't?" Arista repeated in astonishment. "But you were flying so fast." She  
undid the net holding Comfrey's carrier and walked down Fireflash's foreleg with it.

The dragon chuckled. "Guess that might seem fast to you two, but that was a  
pleasant cruising speed for me, little apprentice."

"You're not putting me on, are you?" the girl demanded. "You can fly faster than  
that?"

"Arista, I'm a bronze dragon. I'm the fastest thing with wings on the planet. At my  
fastest, which I won't fly with a passenger on my back, I can fly faster than those fighter jets of the military."

Arista gaped at him. "You can outfly an F-14 or a Stealth?"

The dragon inclined his head. "Easily. That's why my mother named me Fireflash.  
I'm one of the fastest flyers in the Brightwings clan."

Severus and Arista exchanged mutual glances of disbelief and awe. "But how do you  
breathe when you're flying at that speed?" the Potions Master wanted to know.

Fireflash huffed. "I'm a magical creature, Severus. I'm born that way. But flying  
at top speed isn't something I do every day. Only when I absolutely have to."

"Can I fly that fast in Dragonshape?" Arista asked, fingering her dragonscale  
pendant, which she wore on a chain along with her phoenix locket.

"You'd better damn well not," Snape began, but before he could go on, the bronze  
dragon interrupted.

"'Fraid not, kid. Dragonshape will give you some of the abilities of a bronze dragon,  
like fire and flight and even a passable immunity to some magical spells, but not all."

"Oh," Arista sighed, looking disappointed.

"Thank God," Severus murmured, so low that only Fireflash heard it. The mere  
thought of his teenage daughter traveling at Mach 3 was enough to give him a migraine for a week. He'd learned long ago that teenagers and high speed flying acrobatics didn't mix. He'd seen enough Quidditch game crashes to last him several dozen lifetimes, one reason why he detested that sport.

The dragon spoke a word in dragonspeech and all of their trunks and bags and  
Scout's dog crate undid themselves and floated gently to the ground. "Well, you'd best be getting on to Colin and Jenna's," Fireflash said, indicating a small trail off to the right. "Their house is right down that trail over there, about a half mile or so."

"I know where we are, Flash," Arista reminded him. "I won't get lost." She reached  
up to give the bronze's nose a scratch. "I know every inch of these woods like the back of my hand."

"Even after a year of being away?" the dragon snorted skeptically.

Arista nodded. "I spent every day in these woods with Jenna, gathering ingredients  
for potions and herbology."

"And we won't mention the time you went missing in them for about three hours,  
now will we?" the bronze added with a sly smirk.

"You **what**?" Snape cried, staring at his daughter, aghast.

"That was when I first came to live here, Flash!" Arista objected. "I didn't know my  
way around then or how to work a Four Points spell or anything." She gave the dragon a pointed glare. "Besides, the trail's right there, and it practically leads straight to Jenna's front door."

"You sure about that?" Severus queried sharply. "Because I'm not spending three  
bloody hours wandering in these woods dragging all of this stuff after us like a traveling circus."

"_Dad_! Trust me, okay?" Arista gave him an exasperated look. "I know where I'm  
going, I've never gotten lost in these woods since then."

Severus looked at Fireflash for confirmation and the bronze dragon dipped his head  
in affirmation. "Very well then, let's get going," the professor ordered, waving his wand at their belongings.

The baggage immediately rose to float along behind them as Arista led the way down  
the trail. They waved and called goodbye to the dragon, who watched them until they were out of sight, then rose into the air to fly back to New York, where he would check in with Chief Hamilton and see if the Hunter had any new cases for him.

The two wizards walked swiftly down the trail, which was not as small as it had first  
appeared, arriving at the Flynns residence in about twenty minutes or so. As they walked, Arista explained that the trail they were on was visible only to those with magic, ordinary people wouldn't be able to find it. It was the same with the Flynns' house, you could only find it if you'd been invited there or knew how to get past all the misdirection and chameleon wards that were set up around it. Such precautions were standard practice for Dark Hunters, who were often the targets of the dark wizards they hunted or their friends and family who bore grudges against them.

"The wards are keyed to recognize a wizard's aura," Arista explained. "Colin can  
key them to recognise you, Dad, so they'll let you in again if you go for a walk or something. There's a really pretty meadow not far from here where you can see all sorts of wild animals and birds, especially if you go there at dawn with cereal in your pockets."

"Where the deer and the antelope play?" Snape asked mischievously.

"Funny, Dad," Arista rolled her eyes. "I saw a fawn get born there my first spring  
here. It was the most amazing thing, I've never seen anything to match it in my life.  
Although Hagrid told me he watched a baby dragon hatch once, but I don't think it's quite the same thing."

Severus chuckled. "Not at all. I was privileged to see a unicorn born once when I  
was out gathering herbs in the Forbidden Forest."

Arista sighed in longing. "Oh, I wish I could've seen _that!_ D'you remember where  
it was?"

"I think so, but it wouldn't matter, since no unicorn ever returns to the same spot to  
give birth," Severus told her. "You wouldn't have been able to see them now anyhow, since it's too late in the season. Unicorns get born in early April or late May."

Arista nodded, she knew that from her lessons with Hagrid. Scout whimpered  
slightly from inside his crate. "Can we let him out, Dad?"

"No. Not until we get to the Flynns," Snape said firmly. "The last thing we need is  
for him to take off on us. He can wait a few minutes more."

Arista opened her mouth to argue, then closed it when she realized they were almost  
at her old home. "We'll let you out in a minute, buddy," she called to the magehound, then walked past the two large rowan trees that marked the beginning of the trail and across the broad sweep of lawn to the Flynns two-story home.

Colin greeted them at the front door, sending all of their trunks and bags inside to  
their rooms with a brief wave of his hand. Arista knelt to open the dog crate, and Scout  
ambled out of it, shaking his floppy ears, then trotting over to the nearest convenient tree.

"I see you remembered the way home, huh, kiddo?" the Dark Hunter greeted his  
former apprentice, giving her a hug that lifted her off her feet.

Arista hugged him back, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Colin! How are  
Jenna and the baby?"

"Doing great, they're sleeping now. We finally got the baby to start taking naps in  
the afternoon and Jenna's learned to sleep when she does." Colin informed them. He was dressed in casual jeans and a gray sweatshirt that had the words Hunter Academy, NYC on it in red letters. He released Arista and turned to give Severus a friendly clap on the shoulder. "How was the trip here, Sev? Survive it okay?"

"Fine, Colin. You know Fireflash always flies first class," Snape answered, eyeing  
the blond-haired man knowingly. "Looks like fatherhood agrees with you, Flynn."

"Yeah, it does," Colin said proudly. Then he sighed. "All except the sleeping part.  
Kid doesn't sleep for more than two or three hours before she wakes up."

"I've got something here that may help a little," Severus said, patting the small black  
case with the bottles of chamomile-mint tea and the Sleeping Draft in his other hand.

"One of your miracle potions, Professor?" Colin asked, eyeing the case eagerly.

"I wouldn't go that far, Flynn," the Potions Master smiled. "But what's in here  
should guarantee you a good night's rest at least."

"Music to my ears, Severus. You'll have to give me the recipe."

Severus nodded, then turned to watch his dog, who was sniffing here and there about  
the yard eagerly. Suddenly, the golden hound's head came up and he stiffened, scenting something interesting upon the breeze. The magehound's mouth opened, ready to cry the trail.

"Scout!" Severus snapped. "Don't even think about it!" he growled warningly at the  
dog. "No barking, understand? You'll wake the baby, and then I'll have to throttle you, got me?"

He gave the hound a warning stare, meeting the dog's intelligent blue eyes. Scout  
whined softly and wagged his tail, understanding perfectly. Then he went back to exploring all the myriad scents to be found in the Flynns' yard, which was surrounded by miles of woods.

"Smart dog, isn't he?" Colin remarked with a sly smirk.

Snape shot him a dirty look. "Very. But you knew perfectly well, Flynn, that the _last_  
thing I needed was another dog."

Colin chuckled, not at all intimidated by the other's scowl. "Figured you'd say that.  
But Scout seems to have won you over, the way he does most everyone, except the criminals he tracks down."

Snape snorted, but didn't bother to reply to that statement, because the fact was that  
Colin was right. The magehound was a superbly trained dog, a fact the Dark Hunter knew perfectly well. He also knew that the professor appreciated and loved dogs, even though he'd never admit it. Which was why he'd given them the hound in the first place.

Arista came up to him, Comfrey purring sleepily in her arms. "Remember Comfrey,  
Colin? Look at how big she's gotten."

Colin petted the lavender tinged cat about the ears, grinning. "Looks like she's  
grown some since the last time I saw her. And you've gotten a bit taller too, Arista."

"By what, half an inch?" the girl sighed. "I think I'm doomed to be a shrimp."

"Which isn't all that bad," the Dark Hunter laughed. "Your mom wasn't much taller  
and she could knock out a guy twice her size, right Severus?"

Her father nodded. "Amelia had no trouble doing that, I assure you," he said,  
recalling with a rueful smile the one time he'd angered her enough to knock him on the floor with one well-timed right hook. "And neither do you, if I remember the way you sent Marsh flying that morning at school."

"Yeah, but I'd like to be able to reach the top of a cabinet without having to stand  
on a chair," she grumbled.

"That's why we invented summoning charms," her father told her. "You're fine just  
the way you are, my girl."

Arista sighed, then dropped the subject. Both of them were tall, they'd never  
understand what a pain in the neck it was being short. Jenna would, though, since she was only five foot three herself. She glanced about at the cedar wood wraparound porch and said, "Looks like things haven't changed all that much around here since I left."

"Except that now I have to do all_ your_ chores, apprentice," Colin groused.

"Aw, I feel sorry for you," Arista laughed, then ducked Colin's gentle swat.

When she'd been the Flynns' apprentice, she'd had to do small household chores,  
like dishes and sweeping the porch and weeding the garden, since American wizards didn't believe in binding a house elf to do those tasks for them any more. When black slavery had ended after the Civil War for Muggles and wizards alike, it had also marked the end of house elf servitude as well. Now the only wizards that had house elves were rich ones, who could afford them, or the Academies, who needed them to keep up with all the work.

Most other wizarding families regarded chores as the province of their apprentices  
and children, who needed such tasks to teach them discipline and responsibility. Professor Snape was of a similar opinion, which was why their house didn't have a resident house elf. Arista was just as glad, she didn't like the idea of enslaving any creature, even when most wizards assured her that the house elves enjoyed the work they did for their wizard masters. She'd been brought up to believe in American equality and justice for all, even house elves, and would never be quite comfortable with the idea that Hogwarts used house elves for most of their housekeeping duties.

"Come on in," Colin invited, beckoning them up the stairs and into the door, which  
was painted a soft cornflower blue. A plaque beside the door read: **Wizards Welcome, Leave Your Apprentices By the Door. **

The Flynns' house was a two story brick and golden oak affair, with a wraparound  
porch and deck. Two huge blue spruces flanked the house on either side and the front steps were bordered by two enormous purple and white rhododendron bushes. Small beds of daffodils and tulips were alongside the right of the house, these had small stone statues of cunning sprites and unicorns among them.

Colin paused beside what looked like a blue crystal diamond set into the left newel  
post of the stairs and laid his hand over it. "Key to Severus and Arista Snape." The stone glowed with a soft blue light. "Put your hand on the ward stone for a minute, so it learns your mage aura," he directed the other two wizards.

Arista and Severus obeyed, and the stone turned a startling white color, before  
returning to its original blue color. Then they followed the Hunter inside his home.

They left Scout outside to roam around, after being confined inside a crate for six  
hours, the dog was more than happy to be allowed to wander about outside. Despite his earlier comment to Arista, Snape wasn't really worried the magehound would run off, because Scout had been trained to come in from a hunt when his master blew a sequence of notes upon an amplified dog whistle. Severus kept the whistle tucked in his pocket at all times.

The interior of the house was pleasantly light and airy, with high ceilings and several  
large bay windows. The short entryway opened onto a large open area, which was a  
combination of a kitchen and a den. Several family portraits hung on the walls of the den, including a new one of the brand-new member of the Flynn household in her bassinet, waving a fist.

Severus, peering at that picture, noted that the artist had signed it _C. Flynn 6/15/94_.  
"You paint, Colin?"

"Yeah, it's a hobby of mine," the other wizard shrugged. "It helps me relax after a  
case sometimes. I'm no professional, but I think I did a pretty good job with Amelia there." He gestured at the picture of his daughter.

"You're quite good, Flynn." Severus praised. "You could probably sell some of  
these if you wanted. Are they all your work?"

"Most of them. The one of Jenna and me on our wedding day was done by my aunt,  
she's the real artist in my family," Colin said, indicating the large portrait of him and his wife standing amid a field of flowers underneath an archway.

That was hung over the beige sectional across from the large stone fireplace, which  
was unlit because the day was warm. The couch had large green throw pillows scattered over it and a crocheted baby afghan of pink and white was tossed over an arm. Lamps with carved wood nymphs stood on the end tables, glowing with a soft Lumos spell.

On the left against the wall was a huge bookshelf filled with various kinds of books.  
The magical texts, mostly to do with hunting down criminals, bore titles like: _Know Your Enemy: Ten Tips for Trapping Dark Wizards, Track and Find: a Hunter's Guide to Finding the Elusive Necromancer, Secret Codes and Magical Numbers, Advanced Cryptography, Seeking Out Evil, and Battle Magic at Your Fingertips-Devastation in the Blink of an Eye_. They were all safely locked away behind a glass case that could only be opened if one knew the keyword.

The rest of the books in the bookcase were, surprisingly enough, Muggle mysteries  
and suspense novels by such authors as James Patterson, Harlan Coben, Mary Higgens Clark, Karen Harper, and Steven Saylor. There were even a few books on childcare and pregnancy, those looked new, though much thumbed through.

Severus was surprised to see a rather large stereo system as well, Colin explained  
that when Jenna was pregnant she suddenly became obsessed with 80's pop music and insisted they go out and buy a CD stereo system. All her CD's were lined up alphabetically by artist in the accompanying rack.

"Luckily, this house used to belong to a Muggle family before we bought it, so we  
didn't have to get electricity installed or anything," Colin said.

There was also a handsome walnut coffee table and a large gold, red, and white  
Navajo throw rug beneath it that they had brought back from one of their trips out West.

In a small basket with a green pillow near the hearth lay a mackerel tabby with four  
white feet. She came over to greet the visitors, rubbing both of their ankles and making an odd sort of querying meow. "Mrrrt?"

"Hey, Surra. Remember me?" Arista asked softly, kneeling down to pet the tabby.  
Surra gave another of those questioning meows, her whiskers twitching at Comfrey, who was still in Arista's arms. Arista set Comfrey down and said, "Surra, say hello to Comfrey."

The two felines cautiously sniffed each other, Comfrey purring ceaselessly. The  
three wizards watched intently, ready to intervene if Surra didn't appear to accept the  
newcomer. But the mackerel tabby seemed inclined to be friends, and licked the top of Comfrey's head.

"Well, that didn't go over too badly," Colin remarked as the two cats strolled off  
together, exiting the house through the partially open sliding glass door off the dining room.

"Comfrey can charm a three-headed dog in two minutes flat," the professor said with  
a slight smile.

"Have a seat," Colin gestured to the kitchen table, a rather large round one with six  
ladder back chairs surrounding it. There were a stack of blue china plates, napkins, and silverware upon the table. On the floor was an infant's cloth bouncer chair.

"Would you like something to drink?" Colin asked when they had seated themselves.  
He pulled open the fridge and peered inside it. "We've got juice, milk, water, iced tea, and soda. And if you really want it, I can make coffee."

Snape and Arista both had iced tea, freshly brewed that morning by Jenna, with a  
slice of lemon in it and lots of sugar. Colin snagged a can of Mountain Dew and sat opposite them, discussing various subjects, such as Colin's most recent case, hunting down a necromancer in the bayous of Louisiana, assisted by Fireflash. This in turn prompted Severus to tell Colin about Arista's own battle in Dragonshape with the insane giant last December.

Colin shook his head in disapproval. "Arista, if you'd of been my daughter, I'd have  
grounded you for life for that stunt."

"I considered it, believe me," Severus said.

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" Arista groaned.

"No," her father answered, frowning slightly. "Consider it the price you pay for  
being a hero."

Arista rolled her eyes at him and took a brownie off the plate on the table. Right  
then, eating was safer than speaking._ Damn overprotective men! If they had their way, they'd stick me in some tower like Rapunzel and never let me out. Wonder how Jenna puts up with it? _

Soon enough, however, the talk turned to Snape's more harrowing classroom  
experiences, such as the time Even Rothgate, a second year Gryffindor prankster, and his friends decided to put a lighted firework into Samantha Wiggs' cauldron filled with  
bubotuber pus.

"We were working on an astringent to clear up acne, which is always a teenage girl's  
worst nightmare," Snape related. "I was going to give the batches that passed my test to Madam Pomfrey to use, she was always complaining to me she never had enough to go round, when there was this tremendous explosion. I was nearly knocked over by it." He shook his head in disgust. "You know how flammable bubotuber pus is. I had to perform a pretty swift smothering charm to put the fire out before it spread. I was lucky no one was killed."

"Good God, was anyone hurt?"

"Minor burns and such, thank God. Though Samantha had most of her hair burned  
off and had hysterics and had to be sedated for the rest of the day. Actually, half the class was in shock and had to be given a calming elixir. All except the little brat who caused the calamity in the first place," Snape said with a black scowl. "He and his friends were laughing their heads off. Claimed it was the joke of the century. Until I promptly gave them the detention of the century."

"What did you do to them?" Colin asked avidly.

"Nothing like what I _wanted_ to do to them, I assure you. I was furious enough to  
have put them over my knee and spanked them till they howled, but of course that's not school policy," Snape said sourly. "So instead I made them pickle rat livers for the first part of the morning. Then in the afternoon I took them over to St. Mungo's to their burn unit and left the three of them with the Healers, assisting them with their patients, so they could see exactly what results their nasty little joke could have had on their classmates. I told Dumbledore it was a very pointed object lesson."

"Did it work?"

"I'd say so. Rothgate was positively green when I went back to pick them up the first  
Saturday. By the next Saturday, Rothgate, Morris, and Stevens were sniveling like little  
babies when I informed them they'd be going back there for the rest of their detention. I didn't feel the least bit sorry for them."

"Who would?" Arista snorted. "They could have killed someone with their stupid  
prank."

"Hopefully, the little brats have learned their lesson," Colin said. "Any kid of mine  
that behaved like that in school would get a sound spanking. What's wrong with their  
parents, don't they teach their kids any manners?"

"Well, that's part of the problem," Severus sighed. "All of those boys come from  
old wizarding families, they're privileged rich brats, whose parents are too permissive with them, and thus they think they can get away with anything. Including blowing up half my classroom."

"Not any more they don't," Arista pointed out. "Right, Dad?"

"Exactly. Which is why I'm detested as a disciplinarian throughout the school,"  
Snape shrugged.

Colin snorted. "Not something I'd lose any sleep over, Severus. If you don't like  
the consequences, don't get in trouble. That's what I always tell my apprentices, right,  
Arista?"

Arista nodded.

"In fact, we Hunters do something similar to repeat juvenile offenders, it's called the  
Scare 'Em Stiff Program. We arrest the worst ones and leave them in a cell in Inferno for a night, just to show them what it's like if they don't shape up. Not one of those kids has ever broken the law again, believe me."

"Now that's an interesting solution," Severus said. "We think alike, Flynn. Are you  
sure you wouldn't consider accepting a position at Hogwarts for a year? You could be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape's eyes gleamed. "We'd be  
troublemakers like Rothgate and the Weasleys worst nightmare."

Colin chuckled. "Fun as that'd be, I have a contract with the Department of Defense.  
But maybe someday, when I need a change of pace and Amelia's a little older . . ."

As if on cue, there came a loud wail from the direction of the bedroom, which was  
down the hall from the den.

"Uh oh. Looks like Sleeping Beauty's awake and starving, as usual." Colin gestured  
and a bottle of formula flew out of the fridge and into his hand. He cupped the bottle in his hand, glowered at it and muttered a warming charm. The bottle glowed a bright amber for a moment. "Warm enough, I think," he shook some out on his wrist, nodded, then went to get his crying daughter.

Ten minutes later he returned cradling the baby expertly in his arms, she was sucking enthusiastically on her bottle. He was followed by Jenna, who looked a bit tousled from her nap, she was wearing a soft pink sweatsuit and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.

"Oh my God, you're here already!" she exclaimed. "Colin, why didn't you_ tell_ me,  
I look like a disaster." She shot a reproving look at her husband.

"Severus and Arista are practically family, Jen, so who cares what you look like?"  
Colin said, moving over to sit down with Amelia.

Jenna huffed and muttered something about a typical man before she came over to  
hug and kiss her guests. "I'm so happy you're here early. Has Colin fed you yet?" She  
glanced at the still clean plates on the table.

"Umm . . .he was just getting to that," Snape covered hastily.

"I'll bet," Jenna muttered, giving the professor a knowing look. "At least he  
remembered to give you drinks." She looked over at her husband, who was holding the baby on his shoulder and patting her back. "He looks so casual doing that now," she said to her guests, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You'd never guess from looking at him that the first time he fed her, she spit up all over him and he almost dropped her."

"_Colin_!" Arista gasped.

"Did you _really_?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, it was reflex," the Dark Hunter defended himself. "I was holding her up to my  
face, trying to figure out if I should burp her, and the next thing I knew she opens her mouth and I'm covered in formula. I went to wipe my face and . . .she almost slipped out of my other hand. But it wasn't like I did it on purpose."

"And now he knows better than to feed her an entire bottle at one time," Jenna said  
with a smirk. Then she turned to Arista and asked her to fetch the bread from the pantry and began slicing up tomatoes and setting out cold cuts for sandwiches.

"Need some help?" Severus offered, unused to being waited on.

"No thanks, Arista and I can handle this," Jenna answered, shredding some lettuce.  
"Why don't you get acquainted with your new goddaughter, Sev?"

Colin had finished feeding and burping little Amelia and the baby was now burbling  
and cooing up at him. She had fuzzy dark hair and huge blue eyes that seemed to be looking everywhere. At Jenna's words, he rose and walked over to Snape, who was sitting across from him. "Amelia, meet your Uncle Sev." He held out the pink bundle to the Potions Master. "Want to hold her?"

"Uh . . .I don't know about this . . .maybe later . . ." Severus began, looking acutely  
uncomfortable.

The blond wizard smirked, enjoying this immensely. "She's only a baby, Sev, she  
won't bite. Here, take her."

Before Snape could protest again, Colin had placed the baby in his arms. She fit  
perfectly in them, all warm and smelling sweetly of baby powder and milk, her blue eyes gazing up at him curiously.

"Hello, little Amy," he murmured, gazing at the tiny miracle in awe. "You're just  
as pretty as your mother." He kept one hand securely on her bottom and had her head propped up on his arm. He felt as if he held one of his rare and expensive potion flasks with a hundred Galleon potion inside it and he was afraid to move lest it shatter.

The baby gurgled up at him and smiled, all innocence and light, and he couldn't help  
but smile back. Clearly, she didn't mind being held by a very nervous Potions Master.

"Hey, you're a natural, Dad," Arista observed, peering at them from over the counter  
where she was arranging cold cuts and cheese on a platter.

_No, I'm not. I'm scared to death I'm going to drop her_, he thought frantically, as  
Amelia squirmed in his arms, waving a small fist. He shifted his grip on her tentatively.

"Don't be afraid to hold onto her, Sev," Colin coached from his seat opposite.  
"She's a lot less fragile than you think, trust me."

Severus moved his hand a bit, settling the baby more comfortably in the crook of his  
arm. Amelia yawned, not at all phased by the stranger holding her, then snuggled into his chest. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Flynn?" Snape grumbled, darting a panicked glance at the smirking Dark Hunter.

"Every minute, yeah," he admitted, his hazel eyes sparkling.

"He's enjoying watching someone else go through what he did the first time he held  
Amelia, Sev," Jenna put in. "The nurse put her in his arms in the hospital after they'd  
cleaned her up and my big tough cop of a husband almost passed out cold on the floor!"

"I did _not_!" Colin said indignantly. "Well, not really, it was the shock . . .of actually  
holding her for the first time." His voice gentled as he looked over at his baby, who was dozing in Snape's arms. "To think that she came from me, so perfect and all . . . it's the most magical thing on earth, better than any spell I ever cast. Right, Sev?"

Snape nodded, understanding perfectly. "I felt the same when I saw Arista for the  
first time."

"You did?" Arista gaped at him.

"Oh, yes. A newborn or thirteen years old, it makes no difference. I felt exactly like  
Colin did when he saw Amelia." He smiled down at his goddaughter.

"And how did you feel, Dad?" Arista queried.

"Wonderful," Severus answered softly. _And damn sorry I missed all those other  
years, Arista mine, _his mind added automatically.

"We're sorry you never got the chance to know Arista like this," Jenna said quietly,  
her eyes bright with sympathy, almost as if she were reading his mind.

Severus looked up at her, startled, unaware that for once his every emotion was  
readable on his face. He had put his mask aside for the time being and holding the baby had utterly disarmed him. "Don't be, Jenna. It wasn't anyone's fault, least of all yours."

"Well, if you want, you can help take care of Amelia this weekend. Then you'll see  
what you missed all right. Especially when she wakes you up at two in the morning  
screaming bloody murder after only sleeping two hours," Colin offered with a devilish grin. "Think you can handle that, Snape?"

"Colin! We didn't invite Severus here to be a babysitter," Jenna rebuked. "We  
invited him here to be her godfather."

The two men were eyeing each other challengingly, like two dogs over a bone.  
Arista nudged Jenna and whispered, "Shhh. This is better than Rita Skeeter's gossip  
column. I want to see what he says."

Severus gave the Dark Hunter a level stare. "I can handle anything you can, Flynn.  
If Amelia had lived, it would have been _me_ giving you advice, my friend."

"But it's not and this time_ you're_ a complete novice, Professor." Colin grinned.

"I'm a very quick study, Flynn."

"We'll see about that. How about you take over her 2AM feeding, Potions Master?"  
Colin challenged.

"All right, I will."

"I don't believe this!" Jenna cried, looking from one wizard to the other with a  
disapproving frown. "The pair of you are acting like two fifteen year olds betting on a  
Quidditch match! This is my _baby _you're talking about here."

"Don't you trust me, Jenna?" Severus asked, sounding a bit hurt.

"With my life, Sev," she replied sincerely.

"But not your daughter's?" he countered, sounding even more injured.

"Of course I do! I'd never have asked you to be her godfather else." She threw up her  
hands. "But you're turning my baby into a-a competition and I don't like it."

"Is that what we were doing, Colin?" Severus asked, cocking his head meaningfully  
at the Dark Hunter.

"Not really. But she sure _thought_ so, didn't she?" Colin grinned, his eyes sparkling  
with merriment. "Had you going for awhile there, didn't we, Jen?"

"Why you-you-" Jenna sputtered, only now realizing they'd staged the whole  
argument. "I ought to smack the both of you upside your smug heads."

"For what?" Snape asked, chuckling. "Can't you take a joke, Jenna?"

"Humph," the petite woman frowned. Then she sent the platter of cold cuts and  
other fixings onto the table with a twitch of her index finger. "Help yourself."

Arista set the bread on the table, pausing to peer at the baby. "Aww. She looks so  
peaceful, just like a little angel."

Jenna beamed. "She does, doesn't she? But don't let her fool you. She's only an  
angel when she's asleep, believe me." She bent to take the sleeping infant from the  
professor. "C'mon, sweetie, let's put you down in your crib, so your crazy uncle and your equally crazy father can eat lunch."

"Now we're crazy," Colin muttered to Snape as Jenna left the room.

"Defense mechanism, Flynn. She can't bear the fact that she was wrong and so she  
resorts to insulting us," Severus said loftily. "And they say men are impossible to deal  
with."

"You are," Jenna said, returning to the kitchen.

"And they get worse when they get older," Arista put in impudently.

"Better watch your step then, miss," Snape warned, turning his head to give her a  
mock-glare.

"Oh, now I'm really scared," his daughter snickered, pretending to shrink back in  
fear. "Look, I'm shaking with terror."

"There. You see what you'll have to put up with in fourteen years?" Severus gestured  
at Arista. "A disrespectful know-it-all brat."

"But you love me anyway, right?" she gave him her best innocent little-girl stare.

"Only when you're sleeping," he threw back with a sly grin.

"Thanks, Dad. That makes me feel so much better," Arista scowled.

"Don't ask unless you want to know the answer," he said, then added, "Only  
kidding."

"I knew that," she muttered, then busied herself fixing a roast beef and Swiss hoagie  
with everything on it.

"All kidding aside, Colin told me you're worried the baby's not sleeping enough.  
That's why I made you about a dozen bottles of a mild Sleeping Draft, it has no side effects that I know of, and you can use it on Amy as a last resort if she won't fall asleep any other way."

"Sev, you're a lifesaver," Jenna told him gratefully. "Lately, I've forgotten what a  
good night's sleep feels like."

Snape handed her the case with the potions it in. "Oh, and there are a couple of  
bottles of chamomile-mint elixir in there too. It's a little stronger than your average tea, I'd dilute it a bit with water before you give it to her. I find it works wonders on an upset  
stomach. And babies love the taste, it's very sweet." He picked up his own roast beef  
sandwich and began to eat it.

"The nurse at the hospital gave us a recipe for a calming tea, but Amelia refused to  
drink it, spit it right out," Jenna said ruefully, fixing herself a ham sandwich. Though the little cryptographer had regained her slim figure, there were dark circles under her eyes as testimony to her lost hours of sleep.

"Must not have been enough chamomile or honey in it," Snape murmured. "I'll give  
you my recipe. Both of them."

"Thanks ever so much," the new mother smiled. "I take back what I said before,  
Sev. You're not all that impossible after all."

"What about me?" her husband asked.

"You're a lost cause, Flynn. You were born impossible and you're never gonna  
change, hon," his wife smirked.

Arista snickered. "Good one, Jenna."

Jenna winked at her. "We're even now, wouldn't you say, Arista?"

"Definitely."

"Who asked_ you_, apprentice?" Colin demanded, pretending to glower at her.

"Two against one's no fair, combat master," Arista pointed out.

"Neither is life. So deal with it," he quoted his favorite saying back to her.

"I am, sir. That's why I'm with Jenna."

"Traitor," her father muttered.

"Whatever, Dad," she said, giving him a sly grin in return.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, how sharper than a serpent's tooth is a thankless  
child."(King Lear-Shakespeare)

Arista made a face at him. Then she looked at Jenna for help. "I can't match him  
when he starts quoting Shakespeare, Jen. He's read the plays about two hundred more times than I have."

Jenna thought for a moment. "Fathers, rejoice in your daughters, for the man without  
wanders lost and alone on a cold trackless sea, like a king without a country."

Snape exchanged glances with Colin. "I don't recognize that quote, Flynn, do you?"

Slowly, Colin shook his head. "Uh, it sounds familiar, but no."

Arista and Jenna grinned at each other. "Score one for our side," the girl said.

"Damn! This is embarrassing, Flynn," Severus scowled.

"Relax. I know of a way we can beat them," the other man said.

"Oh yeah?" his wife gave him a skeptical look. "What way?"

"Wizard chess," Colin announced.

"Now that's brilliant, Colin," Severus chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Care to test that  
little theory, ladies?"

Arista groaned. "Jenna, we're doomed. Dad can beat me without half trying."

The other woman shook her head. "Oh, ye of little faith, Arista Snape. I was chess  
champion for two years straight at the Academy."

"Forgot about that," Colin muttered crossly. "She beat me senior year for the trophy.  
Think you can take her, Sev?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" Snape said eagerly. "I haven't had a worthy opponent  
since my wife."

"Until now, Severus Snape." Jenna stated. "Watch and learn, Arista."

"Watch you lose, you mean?" Severus taunted.

"Nope. Watch me kick your butt, Snape," Jenna grinned.

"Wishful thinking," Severus snorted. "Where's your board?"

"Dining room," Colin said, indicating the room with his hand.

All of them moved into there. A large chessboard was set up on the far right of the  
table. Severus gestured for Jenna to precede him. "Ladies first."

"Thanks. But gallantry ain't gonna save you, mister," the cryptographer pointed out,  
taking the chair with the white pieces.

"Remind me to give you a handkerchief to dry your eyes afterwards, Flynn," Snape  
drawled. "White plays first."

"Save the lecture, Professor. I don't need it," Jenna said, moving her pawn.

Arista and Colin watched eagerly as Snape countered her move with his own pawn.  
Stalemate.

There followed the most cutthroat game of wizard chess Arista had ever seen.  
Watching the two master players, she soon realized that Severus had gone easy on her when they'd played. That wasn't the case now. Jenna was an opponent worthy of his skill, and he played to win.

Pieces were toppled and vanished so fast Arista could barely register a pattern. Jenna and Snape played for three full hours and by the end of that time, they were still evenly  
matched and it was anyone's guess who would win.

Colin looked at Arista questioningly. "Who do you think will win?"

"Haven't got a clue. They're using moves I never knew existed."

"Same here. I'm good, but compared to them I'm a mere novice." Colin admitted.

"Compared to them, I'm a joke," Arista said.

"So's half the world then," Colin commented dryly. "Feel like sparring with me,  
Arista? I haven't had a decent sparring partner in over five months."

"But don't you want to find out who wins?"

"They're gonna be at it all night, girl. Or at least until Amy wakes up. C'mon, let's  
see if you still remember what I taught you."

"Yes, sir," Arista replied, and followed her combat instructor out to the packed sand  
circle in the back of the house where they practiced martial arts and curse blocking  
techniques.

She halted at the edge of the circle to remove her shoes, neither of them ever sparred  
with shoes on, it was too easy to injure your partner that way. She also cast a physical shield spell on herself. It would absorb the majority of the blows Colin landed on her, minimizing the amount of damage he could do, for the combat master was perfectly capable of killing her if he mistimed a blow, even though he often pulled his punches.

"Shields all set?" he queried.

"Yes, sir. Yours?"

"Up and ready, apprentice," he answered. He cast shields too, for even an apprentice  
could get lucky during a spar, and overconfidence had been the downfall of more than one combat instructor before this.

The two stepped into the circle.

Colin launched a Stalking Tiger strike, but she dodged it with a Weaving Serpent  
counter, then leaped up and kicked him in the ribs with a Flight of the Dragon, the same maneuver she'd used on Marsh the first time they'd fought.

But unlike Marsh, Colin knew how to absorb the blow and use the remainder of her  
own strength to send her flying halfway across the circle. She landed on her feet, her body had not forgotten the acrobatic maneuvers he'd drilled her in at the beginning of their lessons.

"Good!" he praised, blocking her return punch. "Looks like you've been practicing."

"With my friends," she panted, ducking the open handed slap he'd aimed at her face.  
Then she threw a Tarantagulla curse at him with a flick of her left hand.

He blocked it smoothly, then tossed a Stinging Hex at her, while also aiming a kick  
at her midsection.

She took the force of the kick on her arm, deflecting it somewhat, and muttered the  
countercharm to the hex before it could land. "How was that, sir?"

"Excellent. You were always one of my best students, Arista-san." Then he stepped  
up his attacks, pushing her to her utmost.

She blocked a Furnunculus, a Petrificus Totalis, and a Jellylegs jinx all the while  
fending off his jabs and kicks. It was extremely hard to do so, for you had to be focused utterly with both your mind and body, aware of your opponent before he was aware of you. Arista had a slight advantage in that she was an empath, and could read some of her mentor's emotions even while he was shielded.

He threw several more hexes at her in a row, she blocked them with a circular motion  
of her hand, deflecting them back at him and off to the side. He raised an eyebrow at that. "Whirlwind Deflection? You _have_ improved. Sev teach you that?"

"Yes, sir. He can't do kung fu, but he knows plenty about battle magic," Arista  
panted, dodging his roundhouse kick. She performed a charm that made her form blur and seem to vanish into the shadows, another one her father had taught her. It made her nearly impossible to hit and enabled her to get in a few good blows of her own.

Her teacher stepped back, dabbing at his nose, where a small trickle of blood had  
appeared. "Shadow Feint. Didn't know you had learned that one."

"Just last month," she answered, a pleased light in her eyes.

"If Sev's so good at Defense, why isn't he teaching it?" Colin wondered.

Arista shook her head. "I don't know. I think he wants to, but the Headmaster won't  
let him for some reason."

"Makes no sense. Those two spells are no novice ones, and for you to have learned  
them so quickly and thoroughly tells me he's an ace as a battle instructor," the Dark Hunter mused. "If you've got the best already, why not use the best?"

They called a halt after forty-five minutes, both were dripping with sweat, tired-at  
least Arista was-and the baby was awake and yelling for attention. "Uh oh. Playtime's over, I'm afraid," Colin chuckled, and slung an arm about his former student's shoulder before walking back up to the house.

They met Jenna in the kitchen, feeding a grumpy Amelia, while Severus was stirring  
something that smelled like rice pilaf over the stove. "Sparring?" she asked them. Both of them nodded, drinking a glass of water hastily. "How did it go?"

"Good. I caught him a nice one right in the nose," Arista declared proudly.

"She did?" Severus looked up at the Hunter, surprised.

"Yeah. _Somebody_ taught her Shadow Feint and she caught me off guard," the other  
admitted. Severus smiled. "Someday, you and I have to duel, Sev. If she's any example of how you teach, you're probably the equal of an Academy instructor."

"I don't know martial arts."

"That's secondary. Who won the chess game?"

"It was a draw," Snape answered, jerking his head at the baby. "We were interrupted  
by your child over there."

"Typical of her," the Hunter smirked, then went upstairs to change and shower.

Later on, they all relaxed in front of the fire, listening to Jenna's CD's. Scout had  
come in from his rambling and snoozed by Severus's feet and Comfrey and Surra shared the tabby's basket companionably. Murphy, Colin's barn owl, flew in from his nightly hunt in the fields and settled on his perch.

Arista and Severus handed out the gifts they'd brought for the baby and the Flynns,  
who were properly appreciative of the bracelet and the sachets and potpourri. Arista had picked out a book for Colin about the memoirs of an Auror.

Both Jenna and Severus were feeling too sleepy to continue their game, so they let  
it go till tomorrow, content to read and chat until bedtime with Arista and Colin. All of  
them went to bed at the same time.

Severus estimated he had gotten at least two hours of sleep before being awakened  
by Amelia's howling. There was no way he could sleep through that, and so he rose, threw on a robe and padded silently downstairs. He paused by Arista's door to check on her, she remained soundly asleep. Severus envied her ability to sleep through a natural disaster, like most teenagers.

He found Jenna walking about the den and the kitchen, yawning and patting a cross  
Amelia on the back. "Oh, sorry. Did we wake you?" she began. "Stupid question, who  
could sleep through this?"

"Arista. Where's Colin?" Snape asked, wincing slightly.

"Told him to go back to sleep. It's my turn tonight." Jenna sighed, the dark circles  
under her eyes even more pronounced. Amelia whimpered and wailed, despite her mother's crooning a lullaby. Poor Jenna looked exhausted.

"Let me take her, Jen," Severus said.

"No, I'm fine, really. I'm used to it by now. We go through this every night," Jenna  
protested. "You can go back to sleep, Sev."

"But I won't," he insisted. He held out his arms for the baby. "Jenna. If I can't  
sleep, I might as well help. She's been fed and changed?"

"Uh huh. This is just colic and pure crankiness."

"Did you try that elixir I gave you?"

"Mixed it with a drop of the sleeping draft too. She wouldn't take it from me." She  
indicated the full bottle of the tea on the table.

"My turn, then," he ordered. "Sit. You're out on your feet, Hunter Flynn." He gently  
pushed her into a chair and scooped Amelia into his arms. The baby's face was red and scrunched and she was bawling furiously. "What's this, young lady?" he scolded gently. "You ought to be asleep, not screeching loud enough to wake the dead." He tilted his head slightly, so the baby wasn't yelling directly in his ear.

He walked back into the den, relit the fire with a soft word, and settled down on the  
couch with the sobbing infant. He summoned the bottle of chamomile elixir with a snap of his fingers. "Now you be good and drink this, hear? If there's one thing your Uncle Sev's good at, it's potions," he crooned to her, shaking the tea and heating it slightly with a warming charm. "You'll feel much better with this in you, Amy," he urged, slipping the nipple into the little mouth.

The baby, angry and uncomfortable, screamed and refused to suck. Severus kept the  
nipple there. "Oh no, you're not allowed to have a tantrum with_ me_, Amelia Flynn," he  
murmured. "I don't put up with that at all, little one. Now hush and drink." He put a finger on the nipple, squeezing a drop of the elixir on the baby's tongue.

The baby, tasting it, halted in mid-wail and took the bottle eagerly. "Good girl," he  
praised, rocking her slightly. Amelia drank, delighting in the sweet syrupy taste, and the elixir worked its magic, settling the baby's complaining stomach enough so she could sleep.

He fed her the remainder of the elixir in stages, recalling Colin's warning about  
burping her before feeding her the whole bottle. She fussed a bit the first time, but soon settled when she realized he was giving her the bottle back. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Jenna had taken his advice and gone back to bed. The clock on the wall read two-thirty.

"Think you're part owl, do you?" he asked, smiling at her. She blinked sleepily, still  
sucking on the bottle. He gently took it from her, she had finished the whole dose. "See, you feel better now, right? Next time listen to your uncle and don't give your mother a hard time, okay?" He lifted her to his shoulder and began to pat her back firmly. She wriggled and he rocked her gently. "Hush, sweet one. Hush now," he crooned. "God knows I can't sing, but maybe you'll settle for humming, huh?"

He began to hum the only lullaby he knew, which was "Hush, Little Baby",  
something he could vaguely recalling his mother singing to him when he was very little and had woken from a nightmare.

Amelia's little head settled on his shoulder, and one tiny fist came up and rested  
beside her mouth. The Potions Master continued to hum softly and rock his goddaughter, reveling in the silence and the warmth of the baby cuddled in his arms. _So this is what I missed, huh? Lullabies and sleeping drafts at two in the morning. This isn't too bad, Snape. Of course, I haven't been dealing with a screaming demon for a month straight. Still, I'm something of a night owl myself, so maybe it wouldn't have bothered me so much. I'm used to prowling the school at this hour, so this is a cakewalk, so to speak Unless I just got lucky tonight_.

He looked down at the baby sleeping serenely in his arms and his mouth curved in  
a small smile of triumph. _Luck had nothing to do with it. I'm the Potions Master, after all, and the day I can't put a colicky baby to sleep is the day I resign from Hogwarts. _

He yawned, he was feeling a bit sleepy himself. _She should sleep for a good six  
hours. I probably should put her down in her crib, _he thought lazily, the combination of the heat from the fire and the soft rhythm of the baby's breath in his ear was making him doze off._ Later, maybe, I'll do that. Right now . . .I think I'll just sit here awhile, make sure she's asleep and rest my eyes . . . _

Between one blink and the next, the Potions Master had fallen asleep, his wife's  
namesake cradled securely against his chest. The two slept deeply and dreamlessly until the next morning, when they were awakened by the sound of Jenna and Arista cooking breakfast.

**A/N: So what did you think of the Flynns and their house? And how about Sev & baby Amelia? Up next, the christening and meeting Felicity, Amelia's godmother.**


	3. Oathbound

**Oathbound**

**A/N: The usual disclaimers apply . . .Enjoy Sev's moment as he pledges his life to guard his goddaughter!**﻿

That Saturday morning, which was the 24th, and the date of Amelia's christening  
ceremony, Arista decided to take the baby outside on the back stairs to feed the deer with her. While her father and teachers ate a leisurely breakfast, she and baby Amelia strolled outside in the mild sunshine. Arista held the baby in one arm and her other hand had a small bag of honey and oat squares, which she knew the deer loved.

She went carefully down the stairs and tossed a handful of cereal on the grass. At  
the edge of the lawn, where the woods began she caught a glimpse of a slender leg and the flick of a brown ear. She held Amelia up so the baby could see. "Look, baby. D'you see the deer? In the trees over there?" Amelia gurgled, her small hands reaching out into the air.

"Let's see if we can't get them to come closer," Arista mused, then allowed her empathic shields to drop a bit, enough so she could project calming and welcoming emotions towards the deer's minds.

There were four of them, two does, a half-grown fawn, and a proud buck.  
Cautiously, they stepped from the safety of the trees, heads up, ears twitching and noses smelling the air. _Come here. You're safe, nothing will hurt you. Come to us and let us see you, _Arista projected. She threw more cereal on the ground.

The deer, spotting the food and no longer afraid of this strange human, walked  
swiftly up to them and began to feed, nibbling the cereal squares out of the grass delicately.

Arista grinned and whispered to the baby, "Those are deer, Amelia. Pretty, aren't  
they?"

Amelia squealed, reaching her hands out excitedly. Arista used her magic to throw  
more cereal down, right in front of her feet. The little fawn, eager to get as much of the  
sweet cereal as he could, moved towards them.

Severus, Jenna, and Colin were watching through the sliding door as the little fawn  
approached and proceeded to eat right out of Arista's hand. The baby's fingers lightly  
brushed the fawn's nose, and the deer did not draw away.

"Well, I'll be damned," Snape muttered. "They really _do_ eat out of your hand."

"They do if you're an empath," Jenna chuckled. "Most of the young ones wouldn't  
dare approach the rest of us that way. But Arista's got her mom's way with animals."

"That's for sure," Severus smiled, then he pointed towards the woods. "Look, here  
come some more." Three more deer picked their way across the lawn.

"She'd better get more cereal, otherwise there'll be a fight," Colin predicted, then  
opened the door a crack and sent another bag of cereal squares out to their daughters.

Scout, who had been under the kitchen table eating the remainder of Snape's  
scrambled eggs and bacon, caught the sound of the door opening and trotted out to  
investigate. The magehound's superior nose caught the heady scent of the deer immediately, even through the closed door, and he pressed his face against the glass, whimpering eagerly.

The adults ignored him, focused on the National Geographic moment taking place  
right in front of them. Scout, not understanding why they wouldn't open the door and let him chase the herd of silly creatures, pawed the door and threw his head back, a loud howl surging up from his throat.

Only to find Severus' hand clamped down on his muzzle. "Shut up!" the wizard  
ordered sternly. "You can hunt later, for now settle your backside down and watch, mister. Sit!"

The dog whined, but sat obediently, gazing at the deer with longing eyes.

"Quiet!" Snape reprimanded softly, then cautiously removed his hand from the dog's  
muzzle.

Scout quivered and panted, but did not bark, having been trained in puppyhood to  
be silent when commanded to be so, so he did not alert criminals to his presence. He could not understand why he wasn't allowed to bay at the deer now, when he had done so freely yesterday, but he obeyed Snape willingly, the way he would have an alpha pack leader.

"Poor fellow," Jenna said sympathetically, stroking Scout's ears. "He must wonder  
what he's done to be tortured like this."

Snape glanced at the dog, then scratched him behind the ears. "Good boy. You be  
patient and later you can hunt all you want."

Scout wagged his tail, then licked the glass, his whole body tense with the need to  
spring.

Out on the lawn, the other three deer had now joined the first four and all of them  
were browsing around Arista. One or two of the bolder does came to lip cereal from her hand and she placed Amelia's tiny hand against their velvet soft hide, letting the baby stroke the doe. Amelia burbled delightedly.

But at last all of the cereal was eaten and as if on some unspoken signal, the deer  
began to drift towards the edge of the lawn. Only the little fawn remained, licking Arista's hand for crumbs, until his mother stamped at him and he turned to run by her side.

The buck paused at the edge of the lawn, looking Arista directly in the eye. _Thank  
you, little magician. _

She caught the emotion clearly, and inclined her head in return. _You're welcome_.  
The buck bent his head in a token gesture of respect, a casual toss of his antlered  
head, then he wheeled and was gone, bounding through the trees in two magnificent leaps.

Smiling, Arista hugged Amelia to her and turned to climb the steps. "That was fun,  
wasn't it?" she asked the baby, who was blowing bubbles.

She waved at her father and the Flynns, noting in some amusement that Severus had  
his hand fastened tightly on Scout's collar. The magehound was barking wildly now, unable to restrain himself, and seemed intent on going through the sliding glass door.

"Take it easy, boy!" Arista ordered the dog, who was half strangling in his eagerness  
to be free from Snape's grip.

"Move away from the door, Arista," Severus ordered. "Because once I open it, he's  
going to be out like a shot, the crazy beast." His hand worked the latch. "Scout! Dammit, control yourself."

At last the door was open. The magehound, released from his master's hold, bounded out the door, ears flopping, and sprang down all five steps at once, landing on the lawn lightly. Then he gathered himself and released one long ringing bay, warning the deer of his intentions. Then he raced off into the woods, his head held high, tracking through the air, as only the best hunting hounds could. He vanished into the woods moments later, running silently now, the scent of the deer hot in his nostrils.

"Think he'll catch one?" Jenna asked the two men.

"I doubt it, though he's big enough to bring one down," Snape said.

"Oh well, if he does, we'll have venison steaks," Colin said philosophically.  
"Technically, this land is off limits to deer hunters, but you can't stop a dog from doing what comes naturally." Then he reached out to take his daughter from Arista. "And how's my angel this morning? Did you have fun petting the deer with your cousin Arista?"

"Sure looked that way," her mother laughed. "Now we'd better get her dressed, your  
sister and our parents will be here any minute."

Severus and Arista also went upstairs to change into their dress robes, for the  
christening, in addition to being a religious ceremony, was also a formal wizard affair as well.

Severus emerged wearing the formal black robes he'd worn to the Yule Ball,  
complete with his Slytherin crest and deep green edging on the sleeves, as well as his dress suit. The cut of the clothes went well with his tall frame, making him look imposing and dashing all at once. His ebony wand was tucked into an inner pocket of his sleeve, where he could get to it in an instant. Not that he expected trouble, but he was prepared nevertheless.

Colin was downstairs at the same time as Snape, also in black dress robes bordered in Hunter gold, with a cream colored dress shirt and a striped gold and black tie with a gold pawprint pin on it. Black pants and knee high boots completed his ensemble. The blond wizard looked supurb, though he kept fidgeting with his tie like a nervous thirteen-year-old.

"I hate formal wear," he muttered irritably to Snape, tugging at his tie. "I always feel  
like I'm strangling."

"Problems, Flynn?" Severus asked quietly. He eyed the other consideringly.  
"You've got the knot wrong, you know."

"I can never remember how to do it right," Colin huffed exasperatedly. "That's why  
I never wear the blasted things."

"Allow me," Snape said, and undid Colin's tie and retied it expertly.

The other wizard raised an eyebrow. "That part of what they teach you at that fancy  
school, Snape?"

Severus shook his head. "Hardly. That's six months of living with Amelia, who  
loved dragging me to plays and fancy restaurants."

The doorbell rang, and Colin opened it to admit his younger sister, Felicity, who had  
long honey hair just like her brother and bright green eyes. She was dressed in a soft cream colored dress with two inch heels and a soft gauzy pink stole with a leaping cat pinned to it, which was the ancient symbol of the Flynn wizarding clan.

She hugged and kissed her brother. "You look like a knockout, as usual, Coll. Mom  
and Dad should be here any minute."

Then she stepped back and turned to greet the other man standing in the hallway.  
_This must be the godfather, that friend of theirs from Britain_, she thought. Her breath caught in her throat. _Colin, I'm gonna kill you, I swear it! You told me he was a professor, not a damn stud. Oh, why did I have to marry Steve? I should have waited for this one. _She smiled brightly, and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Felicity Bonner, Colin's sister. Nice to meet you."

Severus took her hand and shook it gently. "Severus Snape. It's a pleasure to meet  
you, Felicity."

She forced herself to breathe normally. His voice, it was mesmerizing. "Same here."  
She swallowed hard, reminding herself sternly that she was married. Right then she wished she wasn't. "Uh, where's Jenna? I think maybe I should, uh, be helping her with the baby." She released Severus' hand reluctantly. "See you in a bit, gentlemen." Then she half ran down the hall to the master bedroom, where Jenna and Arista were dressing Amelia in her christening gown.

Severus lifted an eyebrow at the woman's sudden departure. "Was it something I  
said?"

"Huh? Oh, Lissie's always been a flighty thing. Never could sit still a minute. My  
mom used to compare her to a hummingbird," Colin laughed. "Luckily, her husband doesn't mind all her fluttering."

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Felicity was able to regain her composure somewhat.  
Jenna was dressed in a pretty lavender dress with a golden dog head pinned to the front of her purple robes. She looked up as her sister-in-law rushed into the bedroom.  
"Hey, Lissie, calm down. You didn't miss anything except Amelia spitting up all  
over her new velvet bib." She bent to tickle her daughter, who was wearing a soft one-piece romper underneath her white satin and lace christening gown.

"Jenna, why didn't you_ tell_ me that professor of yours was to _die_ for?" Felicity  
panted.

"Who, Sev?" Jenna queried, smirking knowingly.

"My God, when you said you'd chosen him as Amy's godfather, I pictured some  
skinny nerd with glasses and a receding hairline," Felicity babbled. "Not tall, dark, and  
devilishly handsome out there! He almost makes me want to run away to Las Vegas and get a divorce."

"Who does, my dad?" Arista asked, coming out from the baby's room folding a white  
lambswool receiving blanket with Amelia's name embroidered on it in silver thread. She was dressed in a soft mint green dress that highlighted her auburn hair perfectly, a lace shawl about her shoulders with a Ravenclaw crest pinned to it.

"Arista? Is that you?" Felicity cried, then ran to the girl and hugged her.

"Hi, Lissie. Miss me?" Arista inquired, hugging the other woman back. Felicity was  
only ten years her senior and had cheerfully gossiped with her about boys and love spells back when Arista was her brother's apprentice. "So, you like my dad, huh?"

Felicity blushed. "Uh, you could say that. Kind of like the way a flower likes the  
sun. Forget I said that. I really do love my husband." Then she sighed. "But if I was still single . . .what does he teach anyhow?"

"He teaches Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Arista told  
her, giggling. "And you're too old to attend any classes with him, Liss, even if you were single."

"I could take a Youth Potion, make myself sixteen again," Felicity said wickedly.

"Felicity!" Jenna gasped, then doubled over laughing.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself. But your mom was one lucky woman, Arista."

Arista merely nodded, wishing her mother could be here now. She bent to tie the  
little lace cap on Amelia's head.

"You promise to behave at the ceremony, Felicity Brigid Bonner?" Jenna asked,  
shaking her finger at the other magician. "No passing out at Sev's feet or anything like  
that?"

"I promise," the other woman agreed. "Though if I thought it'd get me anywhere,  
I'd faint right in his arms," she muttered to herself.

"Just pretend it's Steve standing next to you," Jenna prompted at her sister-in-law's  
mournful face.

"Like that'll help," Felicity groaned. "Then I might be tempted to kiss him right  
there in front of the priest, for Godsake."

"So pretend he's cousin Rupert," Arista suggested. "You know, Frog Face?" She was  
referring to one of the Flynn cousins, a singularly unattractive older man with a prominent Adam's apple, a high squeaky voice, and wet bulging lips like a frog's.

"Ugh! Perish the thought," Felicity shuddered. Then she nodded reluctantly. "All  
right, I'll do it, but only if I have to." She twisted her wedding band around on her finger. "How does he teach anything to the girls in his classes?"

"Actually, they're kind of afraid of him," Arista admitted. "He's got a reputation for  
being strict and hard, like a drill sergeant, and when he's in his professor mode, he's kind of imposing."

"Yeah, I can see that. Better they're scared of him than throwing themselves at him.  
Guess you'd have to be older to find that sort of dangerous air attractive in a man."

_Was that what attracted Mom to him?_ Arista wondered. _Or was it something else,  
something softer? Somehow I think she saw a side of him no one else did. Kind of like the side he's shown here, and to me when we're home and he can put away his professor's mask and just be my dad. _She knew that Felicity's assessment of him as a potentially dangerous man was correct, there was that about him like a leashed panther, and she knew he was not one to cross in a temper. Yet at the same time, she knew he would never let his temper rule his actions, and thus she did not fear him the way others did. _He's only dangerous to his enemies, like Voldemort and his followers, but never to those he cares about. If I were ever in a battle for my life, I'd want him at my back rather than anyone else I could name, even Colin or Dumbledore.  
_Then she thought about the rest of what Felicity had said, and had to admit that the  
other woman was correct in other particulars as well. _Lissie's right, even if he **is** my dad, he's still a handsome devil. Too bad none of those single women out there have any chance with him. For he's the kind of man to love only once and never again_. She knew that this last assumption was also dead on target, and a part of her felt sad that he would forgo the chance at another relationship. Then again, that was his choice, and one he made voluntarily. _And if he's happy about it, then who am I, or any of us, to argue with him? Wonder what he'd think if he knew the way Lissie felt about him?_ Just picturing his expression made her fall on the bed, helpless with laughter.

Amelia, startled by the older girl's laughter, began to cry, but was promptly picked  
up and cuddled by Felicity, who soon had her smiling again. "Okay, doll face, let's bring you out to your daddy and that delicious godfather of yours and show you off."

There came another ring at the doorbell. "Oh, and looks like your grandparents are here too." She hurried out of the room with the baby in her arms, leaving Jenna and Arista to follow after her, once Arista had managed to stop laughing, that is.

The ceremony was a simple one, attended by just the immediate family, both sets of  
grandparents, Colin, Jenna, Severus, Felicity, and Arista. The priest, Father O'Brien, was also a wizard, and thus could perform both aspects of the christening without a problem. He was a rather tall man with a shock of white hair and a round red face with twinkling blue eyes. He was wearing white vestments and held a tall staff of oak in one hand, which would be used later on in the ceremony for the pledged oaths of the two godparents.

Amelia was surprisingly good for the entire christening, much to Severus's  
amazement. Perhaps last night's elixir and the sleep it brought had improved the baby's temper, for she didn't even cry when the priest poured the warmed water over her head at the baptism. She'd given Snape a wide-eyed look at that part and he'd whispered, "It's okay, don't be scared, I've got you." She'd hiccuped once and for an instant he thought she was going to scream, but then she stuck her hand in her mouth instead.

The next part of the ceremony involved the taking of oaths by the godparents, and  
for this part, Father O'Brien held baby Amelia. The tall priest held the baby expertly in one arm, while the other tapped the staff of rare white oak three times upon the floor.  
"Severus Snape and Felicity Bonner, do you stand before me of your own free will?"  
he intoned.

"We do," they answered.

"Is it also your intention to stand as godparents for this child, Amelia Maureen  
Flynn?"

"It is," they chorused.

"Clasp hands, Severus and Felicity," Father O'Brien ordered. Then he turned back  
to the altar and began to mutter a spell of anointing.

Severus took Felicity's hand in his. He heard her gasp. He darted a concerned look  
at her. She was flushed, and he could see the pulse in her throat fluttering rapidly. "Are you all right, Mrs. Bonner?" he asked in an undertone.

"Uh, yes. I'm just . . .hot, it's very hot in here all of a sudden."

Severus was puzzled, to him the church felt pleasantly cool. "This'll be over in ten  
minutes," he added, trying to reassure her. Maybe she was just nervous.

Felicity dropped her gaze to the floor, not daring to look him in the eye.

Snape frowned. For a minute there he could have sworn that instead of looking  
relieved that the ceremony would soon be over, she'd looked disappointed. Her lips moved, and he thought she might be praying. Until he caught the last bit of her words. " . . .just think about frogs. Frogs, frogs, frogs."

_Merlin, I think the heat's really getting to her or something. Why on earth would she  
be thinking about frogs at a time like this?_

Then he had no more time to ponder Colin's sister's odd behavior, for the priest had  
finished his spell and turned back to them, his form outlined with a softly glowing silver light. "Come forward, my children."

They came forward to stand in front of him. He lifted a hand, which glowed with  
ambient power, and traced the symbol of the ankh on their foreheads. "This is the symbol of life, life eternal, both within and without, spiritual and corporeal." He traced the same symbol on the baby's forehead. "For Amelia Maureen, life is magic, and magic is life. Do you, Severus and Felicity, pledge to defend that life if need be, against all who might do her harm?"

"We do," they chorused.

"Further, do you also swear to guide this child along the path of Light, should  
something unforeseen happen to her parents, to teach her the proper use of the magic that is her birthright?"

Again they agreed to do so.

"Lastly, do you pledge to take Amelia Maureen as your own child, should  
circumstances dictate that necessity, to love and raise, mentor and guide, in all ways as her guardian?"

"We do."

Father O'Brien held out the white oak staff. "I have heard your pledge, but to make  
it binding by custom and law, I ask that you place your left hand upon the Staff of  
Oathtaking." He turned to Severus. "You first, Severus."

Severus grasped the staff firmly in his left hand. It felt warm, as if the tree's  
lifeblood still flowed through the wood, and his hand tingled slightly as the magic in the staff reacted with his own.

"Repeat after me, please. I, Severus Snape, do pledge, by my honor and my magic,  
to be protector, teacher, and guardian to Amelia Maureen Flynn, for all the days of her life. I swear to defend her against all evil, both magical and not, for as long as I am capable of doing so. This do I swear, by my honor, my magic, and God Almighty."

Severus repeated the pledge in a firm ringing tone and at his words the staff glowed  
white hot, but it did not burn.

"The Staff has heard your pledge, Severus Snape, and deemed you worthy. Now kiss  
your goddaughter to seal your pledge of love and duty."

Father O'Brien held out Amelia, and Severus bent and kissed the baby on the  
forehead. He felt a sudden flash of warmth and a feeling of peace and love flowed between him and the child, so strong that he blinked back tears. Then it was done and he straightened.

The priest turned now to Felicity, bidding her repeat the same oath he had given to  
Severus. After she too had sealed it with a kiss on the baby's forehead, the priest declared in a loud tone, "In the presence of those gathered here today, myself, and the Grace of God, I now declare you, Severus Snape, godfather, and you, Felicity Brigid Bonner, godmother, to Amelia Maureen Flynn, from now until forever. May you love and cherish her always."

He then handed the baby back to Severus. "Go forth now and rejoice, my children, and celebrate the binding you have made. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I bid you walk in peace."

He then traced the sign of the cross with his staff over them, then bowed and stepped  
back. The white light about him flickered and went out, and he was suddenly an ordinary man once more. He smiled at the new godparents and their godchild before taking his leave of them.

Snape gazed down at little Amelia, who now that the ceremony was over, had had  
enough of being good and began to fuss. _Guess it's official now, Amelia Maureen. I'm your godfather now as well as your uncle. God grant that neither of us will ever regret it._ He shifted the fussing baby to his shoulder, patting her on the back.

"What's the problem, Amy?" he asked softly.

The baby whimpered. Then she spit up all over his shoulder.

He grimaced. "Guess that answers my question," he muttered. The baby looked at  
him and smiled. "You did that on purpose, didn't you, you little imp?"

"Oh, Sev! Your new robes!" Jenna cried in dismay. "I'm so sorry. Here, let me take  
her." She picked up her daughter, who was beginning to cry. "Oh dear. You're a mess."

"Don't worry about it," he said, taking his wand from his sleeve. "That's why they  
call it a christening, right?" he said wryly, then waved his wand over his robes, cleaning them.

He looked up and met Felicity's amused gaze. She winked at him. He gave her a  
tentative smile in return. At least she didn't seem like she was going to pass out now, nor was she going on about amphibians any more. Perhaps it had been a momentary insanity brought on by nerves.

* * * * *  
Everyone returned to the Flynns for the brunch, which was set out on two long picnic  
tables in the backyard. Jenna had catered it, not being up to cooking the way Severus was or Amelia had been. There were trays of pancakes with assorted kinds of syrups, hot off of the griddle. Platters of sausages, bacon, and eggs were also arrayed as well as a selection of sandwiches and a delectable salmon in a dill butter garlic sauce, plus a carved ham, bread and salad. For dessert there was a fruit salad and a beautiful whipped cream vanilla sheet cake with the baby's name and the date of her christening on it.

Jenna had her 80's music playing in the background, and everyone was eating and  
admiring the baby, sitting on the deck or standing about the yard as they chose. Colin was handing out glasses of punch, which Severus made sure contained no alcohol before allowing Arista to sample it. He then took one for himself, and leaned against the bole of an oak tree, sipping it slowly.

Arista dragged a chair over and sat down, eating with the typical appetite of a  
starving teenager. Scout was in heaven, begging food off of all the guests. Comfrey and Surra did likewise, meowing shamelessly at people's feet until they dropped something.

Snape shook his head at his animals' dreadful manners, then gave in and tossed his begging magehound a slice of ham and fed Comfrey a sausage. Then he summoned a chair with a flick of his wand and sat down next to Arista and began to eat his stack of pancakes drizzled with blueberry syrup.

After everyone had returned home and the yard had been cleaned and all the food  
saved for the next day, Severus drew Colin off to the side and asked him how he could go about obtaining a ward stone for his house.

"With the Dark One returned, I want to take every precaution I can to keep Arista  
safe. She explained to me how you Hunters ward your houses and I was wondering if you could teach me how to do the same."

"I can. Though you'll probably want the ward a bit stronger than the one I've got  
here, since mine is spelled to make my house non-detectable to Muggles and not just dark wizards. I can get you a stone tomorrow, we have a few extra ones at my work, it's a standard defense technique with us."

"Thank you. How much magic can a stone hold?"

"Quite a bit. These are blue moonstones, and they're extremely magic absorptive.  
It can hold just about any strength ward or protection you care to cast, Sev. And it doesn't need to be renewed either. Only keyed to different people at your discretion."

"Can a ward stone be dispelled?"

"Only if the wizard is willing to spend his power to nearly nothing to do so. Most  
attempts result in failure, because the ward stone was built to absorb magic. The only one who can disarm a ward stone is the one who set the spells in it. And the only one who can remove a stone is the one who placed it there."

"Can they be destroyed?"

"Yes, but again, it's extremely difficult to do so. You could smash one, but by doing  
that you'd release all the power stored in the stone at once, and that usually results in death for anyone standing next to it."

"That sounds exactly like what I need. How much does one of them cost?"

Colin waved off his offer of payment. "For you, Sev, consider it a gift. You're my  
daughter's godfather."

"Colin, I can't accept that . . ."

"You can and you will, Severus Snape," the Hunter declared firmly. "You're my  
family now, and I don't charge family for Hunter protection."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, then shut it at Colin's scowl. "Very well. I  
accept. Thank you, Colin." He felt touched by the other man's consideration, for he knew that the Hunter's offer was very generous indeed. A magical artifact like that was not cheap, nor easy to obtain.

"Hey, what are friends for, right?" Colin grinned. "Although you're more like my  
brother than my friend, really." Then he gave an embarrassed cough and suggested that they go inside and see if Jenna wanted to finish the chess game they'd begun yesterday.

Severus agreed, smiling to himself, an odd warm glow in his chest at the younger  
man's words. He would never tell Colin this, but he had always wanted a younger brother. _Funny, how our prayers are answered sometimes_, the Potions Master mused as he made his way up the stairs and into the warmth of the kitchen, to finish his aborted chess game with his little brother's wife.

**A/N: Well, what did you think? Review please! Up next, the long awaited meeting with Amelia's parents! What do you think will happen???**


	4. Meet the Amarottis

**Meet the Amarottis**

Jenna won the chess game, in one of the tensest matches she had ever played in. Arista was in awe of her. "_How_ did you do that, Jenna?"

"Skill, darling."

"Luck," Severus countered, scowling down at the chessboard. Jenna shot him an indignant look. "All right, it wasn't all luck. But I want a rematch."

"Now? Sev, it's almost twelve midnight."

"No, maybe tomorrow."

"Uh, Dad? Tomorrow we're going to see my grandparents, remember?" Arista reminded him.

"Oh. Right." Severus grimaced. "We'll play again just before we leave for London. One last weekend, what do you say?"

"It's a deal. Maybe I'll even let you win this time," she teased.

"Don't you dare," he frowned at her. "I'll beat you on my own or not at all. But you're one of the best opponents I've ever had," he admitted.

"If it's any consolation, Sev, you're one of the best I've ever played too. I look forward to the next time."

"Where I'm going to trounce you, Flynn."

"We'll see, won't we?" Jenna yawned. "I think I'm going to have a cup of tea and then I'm going to bed. Hopefully, I'll even get a normal amount of sleep tonight, if your potion works on Amelia the way it did last night."

"It should, since it's the same exact one," Snape pointed out.

Arista waylaid Jenna while she was in the kitchen making tea for everyone and whispered, "Uh, Jenna? Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, sweetie. What is it?"

"I need you to give me some pointers on wizard chess," Arista said. "See, I made this bet with my dad . . ." She explained about their little competition.

Jenna seemed vastly amused. "You want me to give you tips on how you can beat Sev?"

"Yes. Will you?"

"I will, but not tonight. Tell you what. I'll write some of my moves down and diagram them for you. Then, when you come back here in two or three weeks or whatever, I'll demonstrate them. He won't be expecting you to play like a master, and if you catch him off guard, you just might beat him. Fair enough?"

"You're the best, Jenna!" Arista hugged her. Then she went to help her gather the tea things.

The next morning, Fireflash arrived in the trailer park clearing, ready and waiting to take them to the Jersey shore to meet the Amarottis. Or rather, he would take them first to Point Pleasant Beach, where he could then open a portal that would take them directly to the Amarotti's beach house, which was in the nearby town of Brick on a quiet street at the end of a culdesac.

They managed to have everything packed, including the pets, and ate a last breakfast with Jenna, Colin, and Amelia before setting back down the half-mile trail to the clearing where the bronze dragon waited. Arista was very excited at the prospect of meeting her grandparents and hoped the flight to New Jersey wouldn't take all that long. She wondered what they would look like and if they would be surprised at how much she resembled her mother.

"Dad, did you send them a picture of me when you wrote them back in May?" she queried as they walked along the trail.

For a long moment, Severus did not answer, he was being particularly uncommunicative this morning. At last he said, "No. I was going to, but then I felt it was best if they saw you in person. Why?"

"Well, I just hope they don't die of shock or something when they see how much I look like Mom."

"I told them you resembled Amelia a great deal, so they shouldn't be too surprised."

He fell silent again and Arista looked at him, concerned. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there last night, and he walked ahead doggedly, as if he had to get where he was going and not as if he wanted to. He had been relaxed at the Flynns, but now he seemed unusually tense and nervous.

She opened her mind a bit, trying to sense his emotions, but was met with a blank wall. She immediately drew back, he was shielding his emotions from her, and she was too well-mannered to pry into his head without asking first, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Are you nervous, Dad?" she asked softly, wanting to reassure him somehow, yet not knowing the right way to do it.

"A little," he replied. After a moment he added, "It's always a bit awkward, meeting one's in-laws for the first time."

"You'll be fine," she said, and rested her hand lightly on his arm.

He nodded, allowing her hand to remain there for a moment more before he shrugged it off and began walking ahead of her. She meant well, he knew, but she would never understand the way he felt. He was more than merely nervous, he was terrified.

He had visions of being invited to take a walk with his father-in-law somewhere, whom he pictured as a distinguished Italian gentleman, and at the end of it waited three hulking men with clubs and entrapment spells with orders to make him disappear—permanently—for dishonoring their boss's daughter. Which was, of course, ridiculous, he was almost certain that the Amarottis had no connections whatsoever to organized crime. But the fact remained that it would have been ten times easier meeting the Amarottis with Amelia by his side, which was the way it should have been.

_  
But when have you ever done things the normal way, Severus?_He asked himself. _Not for you the easy way, never ever. You've always taken the road less traveled by, or the one that no sane person would dream of walking in the first place._ He sighed inwardly, trying in vain to calm the butterflies in his stomach. _Somehow, I'll get through this. Hopefully, with my head and my dignity mostly intact. Why in hell did I ever send that letter to them?_ He thought morosely. _Because they deserve to meet Arista, she's their grandchild,_ his conscience whispered. _And she deserves to meet them. If anything should ever happen to me, at least she won't be a stranger thrust upon them._

No, he had no real fear that they wouldn't accept Arista as their own, she was Amelia's daughter, plain as sunlight. Her father, on the other hand, well that remained to be seen. He didn't see how they wouldn't resent him, for he'd gotten their daughter pregnant out of wedlock, though he'd not known it at the time, and they'd never had a proper marriage ceremony either, since Amelia had been killed before he could propose to her. Yet he considered himself married to her, for all intents and purposes, for she had returned from the dead not just to save him, but to fulfill her last wish and marry him. The wedding ring she had given him then was proof of her commitment to him, a love that had lasted until death and beyond.

_She was my wife and I was her husband, unconventional though that may be. I can only hope they accept my explanation for everything that happened. Not that they'll ever know the whole truth, for no one would ever swallow the true tale, but as much as I can safely reveal to them I will. The most important part, that I married her and I loved her, and still do, is what I want them to understand._

For what seemed like the thousandth time, he wished Amelia were here. He was never at his best when meeting new people for the first time, and especially not these people, who would presume to judge him based on circumstances that had happened years ago, when he was still a foolish lonely young man. He swallowed hard, wishing his stomach would quit churning. He should have taken a bottle of chamomile-mint elixir with him, that would quiet the nausea he was experiencing.

He took several deep breaths, the way he would for meditation, and felt his stomach settle somewhat. Good, at least he wouldn't disgrace himself utterly by throwing up in front of his daughter or Fireflash either. He couldn't ever remember being this nervous before, not even when Lucius Malfoy inducted him into the Death Eaters. Meeting his in-laws was definitely up on his top ten list of things to avoid in the future. Assuming he survived this initial meeting, that is.

__

Damn it, Amelia, you couldn't wait until we had met your parents first and then died?he thought angrily. An instant later he was filled with remorse and shame for even thinking such a thing. _I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. My God, I'm apologizing to my dead wife for something I never even said._ He gave himself a brisk mental shake._ Pull yourself together, Snape, and quit acting like a damn martyr. Either they'll like you or they won't, and if they don't that's THEIR bloody problem. Most people hate their in-laws anyway, so what do you care?  
_Except a part of him _did_ care, cared very much. It was the little child in him, that had always longed for a real home and a real family like other children, one in which he was loved and not reviled as a freak, always alone and friendless. Amelia had given him that, he realized, it was one of the reasons he'd loved her so much. Now all he could do was hope that her family, of whom she had spoken of so fondly, would be willing to do the same.

They reached the trailer park and he busied himself getting everything settled on the bronze dragon, who greeted him with his usual friendliness. Fireflash's greeting made him feel marginally better, for he'd always respected the bronze dragon, and he knew the dragon genuinely liked him as a friend, and bronzes did not place their trust in wizards lightly.

"All set, Sev?" Fireflash called, just as Snape was tightening the last of his shoulder straps.

"I'm good, Flash."

The bronze flexed his shoulders, settling the saddle and the various packages attached to it more comfortably against his scales. Then he breathed his mist breath upon his passengers. "All righty then. New Jersey, here we come. This flight should take me about fifteen or twenty minutes tops. Just enough time for me to serenade you two with some songs by Bruce Springsteen."

"Oh, good. I love Springsteen," Arista said.

"Requests, Arista?"

"Jersey Girl. It reminds me of Mom. And Brilliant Disguise. Or maybe Tunnel of Love."

"Okay, okay. What do you think I am, a CD player?" the bronze chuckled. He launched himself into the sky, his wings beating once, twice, thrice, until he caught an updraft and soared straight through the clouds.

As always, the initial takeoff was as smooth as silk, but his passengers both gasped, though not in fear, but in awe. No matter how many times they flew upon the bronze's back, they always felt the same reaction, an incredible rush of awe and delight. There was nothing quite like riding a bronze dragon. It was an experience unto itself, and not one many wizards ever had the pleasure of knowing one time, much less several times, the way Arista and Severus had.

Once they were airborne and at comfortable cruising altitude, which was about thirty-five thousand feet, by Fireflash's estimation, and masked so they couldn't be spotted by any Muggle radar or other technological detectors, the dragon began to sing the songs Arista had requested.

To Severus's surprise, the songs were mostly love songs, about a man who had fallen in love with a Jersey girl, and another couple who seemed to be having problems, but resolved them at the end of the song. The last song was about two lovers riding in a tunnel of love. The professor smiled. He had no doubt that his too intuitive daughter, sensing his nervousness, had picked those songs especially for him. Thanks, Arista. You know me too well, my girl. Almost as well as your mother ever did.

Listening to the songs, sung in Fireflash's note-perfect bass, relaxed the professor enough so he could enjoy the short flight.

"How was that, Sev?"

"Wonderful, Flash, as always. I especially liked the first one, it does remind me of Amelia and I when we were dating."

The dragon preened. "Yeah, I always liked Springsteen myself. He's got a way with words and melody that really stick with you."

The dragon was circling above the ocean now, peering through the clouds with his dragonsight, making sure there were no people or boats around before he landed on the beach.

The beach was empty, and the only things moving on the ocean were the seagulls. Fireflash glided down to a perfect three-point landing, coming to rest on three talons on the sand. The soft hush of the waves covered the slight thump of the dragon's landing.

"Well, here we are at Point Pleasant Beach," the dragon announced. "This is a nice spot to sunbathe, if you like that sort of thing, which I do. Hope you all enjoyed your flight."

"We did, Flash," Arista said, undoing her flight straps. "Where's this portal you're going to send us through? All I see is the beach and the ocean."

The bronze grinned. "Ah, that's all you're supposed to see, girl. We bronzes don't advertise our portals to just anyone, wizard or not."

Snape frowned, extending his magical senses outward, searching for some trace of magical energy. He felt something, a quiver in the air, but nothing definable, nothing he could point to and say that magic was being used at that spot. "Are you sure it's here? Because I can't sense anything magical anywhere."

"Good. Then neither can anyone else," Fireflash said, sounding pleased. "Means our concealment spells are still in place. Like I said before, we don't like to advertise the fact that we can open portals. Once, long ago, we wouldn't have had to hide our magic, but not now. Now we don't trust the way we used to. Not since the Exodus," the bronze said heavily, referring to the time when the bronze dragons had voluntarily abandoned their homes in Europe and Britain to return to their birthplace in America, free from the persecution of the Dragonslayer Guild, which had tried to hunt them to extinction.

"We'd never betray you, Flash," Severus hastened to reassure the big beast.

"I know that, Sev. But rules are rules."

The dragon did not bother to explain that cryptic comment, simply spoke a word in dragonspeech and removed all of their baggage from his saddle.

"Stand over there a ways," the bronze ordered, indicating a spot some ten feet beyond him, facing the sand dunes.

They obeyed, walking to where he had told them.

Fireflash whipped his head above them, jaws opening wide. Then he exhaled sharply, and a stream of blue-white fire struck the ground about ten feet from their shoes. The dragon moved his head slightly, and the fire climbed in the air, forming the outline of an archway. Then the flames flickered, and suddenly the sand dunes were gone.

In front of them was a very ordinary looking house with a long driveway and a green lawn, white with blue trim, a little larger than their house on Spinner's End.

"Your destination, the Amarotti beach house, 13 Clover Lane, Brick, New Jersey." The dragon said, gesturing with a talon towards the portal.

Severus shot the bronze a look of respect. "I didn't sense anything. I still don't, not really."

"Dragon magic, Potions Master," Fireflash said proudly. "Go on, go through it. It'll remain open for as long as I wish it."

Snape pointed his wand at their bags and recited the Mobilicorpus spell. Then he and Arista stepped through the portal, followed by all of their belongings and Scout and Comfrey in their carriers.

When the last bag had gone through the portal, Fireflash stuck his head through and called out to the two wizards. "Goodbye, you two. Hope you have a nice visit with the Amarottis, Sev. They're good people."

"You've met them then?" Severus asked.

"Sure, I was her partner, remember?" the dragon reminded the wizard softly. "I met all of them. They're nice folks, competent and respectful. You'll get along fine with them, Sev."

Snape frowned irritably up at the bronze. Did everyone on the planet know his mental state, for Godsakes? "I'm sure I will, Flash. Thank you again."

"You're welcome." The bronze gazed down at them regretfully. "Sorry about this, guys, but like I said before, rules are rules, and even my friends aren't an exception."

Before Severus could ask what in hell he meant, the bronze had breathed a soft white cone of amnesiac gas over them, making them forget how they had come to be at the beach house. Fireflash left them with a vague memory or arriving there on his back and that was all. The existence of the portal and the way to open it had been forgotten.

For Dragon Law stated that no human could know of the existence of the portals, lest humans use them to harm the dragons that had created them, as had been done centuries before in the Old World. Such was the legacy of mistrust and hatred the Dragonslayer Guild had sown between the bronze dragons and the wizards who had once been their trusted friends.

Fireflash closed the portal with a thought, then spread his wings and soared up into the sky, the only remains of his presence were the huge claw marks in the sand, which were soon washed away by the tide.

Blinking, Arista rubbed a hand across her eyes, wondering why her head felt a bit fuzzy. She normally never had a reaction after flying on Fireflash. She gazed about at their luggage and noted her father was squinting and rubbing his eyes as well. She could vaguely recall the bronze saying goodbye before taking off.

Then her gaze fastened on the beach house, the place where her mother had grown up, or at least spent her summers. It looked exactly the way she had thought it would. Lived in and comfortable, the way a home should. She felt a thrill of unbridled excitement run through her, followed by a flicker of nervousness. Would her grandparents like her? Would she like them? And, most importantly, would they like her father?

She glanced sidelong at him, he was fidgeting slightly, though one would never know it by his face. He had his professor's mask on again, the one he wore when he didn't want strangers to see his true feelings. Arista was one of the few people who knew the mask for what it was, and thus could see beneath it when she wished. Poor Dad. He's a nervous wreck, she thought sympathetically. They better be nice to him, or else. She squared her shoulders and reached out to take Professor Snape's hand in hers. "Come on, Dad. Let's meet the in-laws. Better late than never." She projected a wave of soothing calm and reassurance at him, and felt him relax slightly.

Together, they walked up the driveway, their baggage floating behind them like a train. Before they could even set foot on the porch, two tricolor beagles burst around the side of the house, baying a welcome.

The two dogs frisked up to them, jumping up on them and licking them, tails wagging happily. Severus was appalled. "Get down!" he ordered. "You're getting pawprints all over me, damn it."

The dog promptly transferred his affection to Arista, who was laughing and petting the beagles' floppy ears, fending off their enthusiastic greeting with one hand. In his crate, Scout bayed loudly, wanting to get out and play with the other dogs.

"Well, if they didn't know we were here, they sure as blazes do now," Snape said, rolling his eyes. What a way to make an entrance. Announced by a pack of lunatic dogs.

He lifted a hand to knock on the door, only to have it thrown open. "Oh, my goodness! You're here already!" a small woman with black hair cried. She took in the tall man and the girl surrounded by the two beagles and smiled brightly.

"Ace! Rowdy! Settle down!" she ordered the dogs.

The beagles immediately sat down, their tails still wagging frantically.

"Sorry about that. They love meeting new people," she apologized, looking up at Severus with twinkling turquoise eyes, the same shade as her daughter's. She looked to be in her late fifties, her hair was curly and cut short and she was wearing a pretty lemon yellow sundress and matching sandals. "You must be Severus, my Amelia's husband. I'm Arista, but you can call me Ari, son. Welcome to my home."

Taken aback by her warm greeting, Severus remained silent for a moment. Then he remembered his manners and said, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Amarotti." He held out a hand for her to shake.

But she didn't take it. Instead she reached out and hugged him. "Call me Ari, please." Then she kissed him on both cheeks. "Come in, no need to stand out on the porch, you're family after all, not some travelling Bible salesman." She held open the door and a bewildered Snape stepped into the house.

He glanced back to see if Arista was following him, and saw Amelia's mother freeze, one hand going to her mouth. "Oh! You look so like my Amelia, child!" There were tears in her eyes as she hugged her granddaughter. "The very image of her when she was a girl. Except you've got your father's eyes, I see."

Arista hugged her back, her own eyes glistening. "Hi. I'm Arista too."

"Of course you are. And you can call me Nana, all my grandkids do." Ari told her, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "We've been waiting ever so long to meet you." She released her granddaughter and led the way into the kitchen, which was done in soft tones of forest green and gold. "Leo! Say hello to your granddaughter and your son-in-law."

A rather tall man sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in fixing a broken clock, or so it seemed. Pieces of the clock were scattered all over the tabletop. At his wife's voice he looked up, he had Amelia's auburn hair, going to gray at the temples and a pair of shrewd brown eyes. He was wearing a beige long-sleeved shirt, khaki pants and a brown robe with the crest of a falcon perched on a staff entwined with a green vine, symbol of the Amarotti clan. Most of the Amarotti men were earth mages, Arista recalled, which meant that they were skilled with growing things and also rocks and protective spells. The man before her was handsome enough, she supposed, for a man nearly sixty.

Leonardo Amarotti caught sight of Arista first, as she had entered the kitchen practically on her grandmother's shadow. He paled, his eyes widening in shock. Slowly, he brought up a hand to rub at his eyes, blinked, then pulled on a pair of glasses from his pocket.

The girl before him gave him a tentative smile and said, "Hello. I'm Arista."

"For a moment . . .I thought you were Amelia. Your face, your height, the hair, it's uncanny," he managed.

"I know. Everyone says I look like her," his granddaughter said. She moved forward to embrace him, and he hugged her tightly.

"For an instant, I thought you were her come back again," he whispered hoarsely, kissing her on the cheek. "But that's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible with magic, sir," Arista answered quietly.

He laughed. "So your mom always said. And she was right, in a way." He released her, smiling. "Just call me Grandpa, or Grandpa Leo, all the kids do, even the ones that aren't related to me."

"All right, Grandpa." She stepped back to introduce her father, who had come in behind her and was now standing quietly, his hands folded in the sleeves of his school robes. "This is my dad, Professor Severus Snape."

Leo looked at him, seeing a tall rather hawk-nosed man with dark hair and eyes that seemed to see everything. Even standing still, he radiated an unconscious aura of power. The other man felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. As an earth mage, he was sensitive to magical auras, and this man's threw off power like chained lightning. So did his granddaughter's, but hers was a bit softer, less refined. _Healer rather than fighter, he thought automatically. But not this one, this one is a combat mage to the bone. And a damn good one, to have such control._

Better than his own, Leo realized, and that thought irritated him, that the younger man standing there so calmly had more control than he did, who was nearly thirty years his senior. He wasn't used to feeling inferior, and thus he said with a touch more acerbity than normal, "So you're the one Amelia called "the most wonderful man on earth."

"Excuse me? I'm what?" Severus blinked, unflinching under the older man's scrutiny.

"She wrote to us, just after she returned from Scotland," Leo clarified. "That's what she said in her letter—I've just met the most wonderful man on earth, and someday I'm going to bring him here to meet you. But she never got the chance. She also never bothered to mention the fact that she married you either, or had a child, God only knows why. A professor, are you? Teach Defense do you?"

"Potions, sir," Snape corrected softly, meeting the other's gaze steadily.

The other wizard continued, almost as if he had not heard. "I have a great many questions for you, Severus Snape, and you have much to answer for."

Severus stiffened, not liking the other's tone. He had seemed so welcoming to Arista, he thought in dismay. This was just as he had feared. He opened his mouth to tell his father-in-law that he would be happy to discuss the particulars of his relationship with Amelia, but Arista, who had been growing steadily furious at the older man's words, leaped to his defense.

"No, he doesn't," she interjected, glaring at the other man. "He doesn't have to answer anything if he doesn't want to, he's not some criminal on trial. My mom loved him and he loved her, and that's all that matters and it ought to be enough for anyone, even you."

Severus was horrified at his daughter's rudeness. He wanted to die right there. Either that or shake her until her teeth rattled. He shot her his most disapproving glare. "Arista Eileen Snape! You know better than to speak to an adult that way. Apologize this instant," he scolded softly. _What must they think, that I'm raising some disrespectful brat here?_

His daughter, however, was glaring mutinously at her grandfather, who was, he noted in utter disbelief, not angry at all by the girl's words. Instead the older man was laughing. "No, don't scold her, please," Leo said, regaining control over himself. "That's exactly the way Amelia would have reacted, you know. She's an Amarotti to the bone, they always defend their men to the death."

"Even when they act like idiots," put in Ari, frowning at her husband.

Leo winced. "They're right. I had no business grilling you like a Hunter with a suspect."

"Maybe not," Severus conceded. "But my daughter still owes you an apology." He frowned down at her.

She blushed, embarrassed now at her momentary flare of temper. "I'm sorry, sir."

Leo chuckled. "It's okay, I deserved that, your mom would have breathed fire at me too." He looked up at Severus. "I apologize, Severus. Your daughter was right, all that really _does _matter is that Amelia loved you and you loved her. Nevertheless, I would like you to explain a few things, if you wouldn't mind." He gestured to the table. "Have a seat, please. And call me Leo if you like."

"Thank you," the professor said, and took the chair next to the other man. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—" he gave his daughter another pointed frown. "I understand that you might want a few things clarified, and I will be happy to answer any questions you might have. To begin with, I teach Potions, not Defense Against the Dark Arts, though perhaps one day that might change. I met Amelia before I became a teacher however, by chance in a hidden glen in the Highlands, fourteen years ago. I was twenty-one . . ."

While the two men talked, Arista helped her grandmother set out plates for coffee and an assortment of cheese Danishes and nut pastries. She was still smarting over her father's scolding, and felt compelled to apologize to her grandmother. "I really do know better than to shoot my mouth off like that, and I am sorry," she began.

Ari shook her head. "Heavens, child, you're not the first kid to ever lose her temper with him. Your mom had some pretty good arguments with him herself, I'll tell you. Amelia was his favorite, you see, and it always bothered him that she never introduced your dad to us, not that she needed to, she was old enough to go out without asking permission anyway, but . . .well, he's just an old-fashioned Neopolitan man." Her grandmother shrugged. "Men! They love to bristle at each other like two dogs, then once they've got that out of the way they can be friends like normal people."

"Yeah, I can see that . . ." Arista laughed. "Oh, no! I forgot about Scout. He's still in his crate. And my poor cat Comfrey too!"

"Yes, I thought I heard another dog barking besides my two crazy beagles," Ari said.

"He's a magehound, and he hates being cooped up." Arista explained, running to the door.

"Can't blame him," Aria said, following her. "I'm sure he'll love to play with Rowdy and Ace. And your cat is welcome too, we have three of them ourselves, kittens. Sugar, Spice, and Snippet, they're around here somewhere."

Arista undid the latch on Scout's crate and let the magehound out. He promptly licked her, gave a paw to Ari to shake, then sniffed noses with Ace and Rowdy, who were sprawled on the porch. The three hounds raced about the yard, playing some kind of game with each other.

Arista brought Comfrey's carrier inside and took out the gray cat, who was purring, as usual. "Hey, baby. Come and say hi to my Nana."

Ari stroked the little cat. "Oh, she's sweet as sugar, Arista. And part lavender fairy cat too, or I'm no Animal Healer."

"You're an Animal Healer?"

"Oh yes, I guess your mother never mentioned that to your father, did she? That's one reason why we have so many animals around. Strays come to me to be Healed and most of them end up staying, those who I don't find homes for, that is!" She looked at her granddaughter knowingly. "And you're a Healer too, I can tell by your aura. A very strong one, and good with people as well as animals. The first one in two generations, since none of my daughters had the gift, it tends to skip a generation or two. And the Amarotti women do tend to develop stronger talents than the men."

"How many aunts do I have? I know that Mom had sisters, but not how many."

"I had three daughters, including your mother," Ari said. "Your mom was the oldest by two years. My second oldest, Teresa, though we all call her Teri, is here with us for a few weeks, along with her twins, Nick and Drew, they always stay for part of the summer, right through the Fourth of July. Her husband, Johnny, works for the Department of Defense too, only he's in narcotics. He's working on a case now in New York, but he should be home by the end of the week. My youngest daughter, Sandy, lives up near Freehold and she's married to your Uncle Paul, and they have a little girl, Marietta. But you'll meet all of them at the Fourth of July picnic we always have. All of the Amarotti cousins come to it."

They went back into the kitchen, and found that Severus and Leo were now discussing Arista and how Amelia had hidden her away from Nightshade. Ari served them coffee and pastries and then she sat down next to Arista to listen as well.

When Snape had finished talking, Ari asked, "And your parents, Severus, were they surprised by Arista as well?"

"No, because they aren't alive. They passed away when I was still a teenager."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, I was an only child," he answered, and thankful for it once his father had begun drinking. "Amelia became my family for a time. And now, of course, I have Arista."

The two elder Amarottis seemed taken aback by his matter-of-fact statement. "But . . .all those years before you knew of Arista, you were alone?" Ari queried softly.

Severus shrugged. "Yes. After awhile, you grow used to it."

"Well, you aren't alone any more, Severus Snape," Amelia's mother declared. "You're an Amarotti now, same as the rest of my son-in-laws. Right, Leonardo?"

The earth mage nodded. "Of course. Welcome to the family, Severus." Then he added with a sigh, "And heaven help you, because now Ari's gonna fuss over you the same way she does one of her injured stray birds and such."

"Oh, be quiet, Leo! You never complain about my 'fussing' when you're sick, now do you?" she scolded, her turquoise eyes twinkling.

"That's different," her husband mumbled, blushing. "He's a grown man, he doesn't need you hovering over him like he was a child."

His wife gave him a long look. "You think you know everything, Leonardo Amarotti," was all she said then. She turned to her son-in-law. "I've put your things in the guest bedroom to the left of the bathroom, Severus, it's right next door to Arista's. Would you like another piece of Danish? Or another cup of coffee?"

"No, thank you," he declined. His mind was still trying to process the fact that they had actually accepted him. Could it really be that easy? From far away he seemed to hear Amelia's voice._ Of course it can, Sev**. I** loved you, so why wouldn't they? Trust them, beloved. They're your family now too. _He wanted to, and yet a part of him hesitated. He had learned as a child not to trust so readily, because the ones you trusted hurt you. That might not be the case now, but still, he would wait and see.

Leo cleared his throat, then said, "You being a Potions Master and all, do you know of any kind of elixir that will stimulate growth in climbing roses? Mine aren't doing so well, it's the soil here, too much sand."

Severus thought for a moment. "That's not really my field, but perhaps you could try a tincture of amliathora flower mixed with some tannin bark . . ."

"Yes, that might work. Can you dilute it with water and use it as a spray, or do you just pour it on the roots?"

"A spray would be best, I think. Otherwise it's too concentrated and you'll get a rose tree with three foot roses and thorns half the size of your arm," Snape cautioned. "Use it two times a day for a week and see how it works."

"Yes, though I might have to alter the soil composition a bit," the earth mage mused.

The two continued discussing various plant-based potions until Teri came downstairs. She was a pretty woman in her early thirties with dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing blue denim shorts and a flag T-shirt. She stopped dead upon seeing the guests in the kitchen, but almost immediately she regained her composure and came forward to hug and kiss them.

_I guess I better get used to all of this hugging and kissing_,Snape thought, accepting the woman's embrace lightly. _They seem to do an awful lot of it around here. Must be an Italian thing._ Now that he thought about it, he recalled Amelia was usually hugging him at least once a day when they'd been together, and the first thing she had done in the morning was give him a kiss. Once, such casual intimacy would have made him uncomfortable, but now he found he didn't mind it all that much.

"Hi, I'm Teri, Amelia's sister. You must be Severus Snape, right? And this is Arista." She raised both eyebrows. "Great Scott, you could be Amy's ghost! You look just like her at that age." Then Teri chuckled. "Sorry, you must get sick of hearing that, I'll bet. But wait till your Aunt Sandy sees you. She's got Dad's red hair too, and could probably pass for your mother, if she were old enough, that is!"

She took the chair at the end of the table, and began eating a nut pastry and drinking a cup of coffee. "Word to the wise, Sev, don't eat everything my mom puts in front of you, otherwise you'll gain about twenty-five pounds in a day. She likes to feed people."

"And what's wrong with that, Teresa Maria, huh?" her mother sniffed.

"Nothing, Ma, except that if I ate everything you cooked, I'd be like cousin Alfred, a house. The only way I keep my weight off is by running ten miles every morning," she told them.

Arista's mouth fell open. "You run _ten miles_ every morning?"

"Yeah. But not as a human. My Animagus form's a black mare," her aunt said, laughing. "Between food and my twins, I really need those long morning runs."

"Where are the boys, Teri?" Ari asked. "Didn't they want to come down for breakfast?"

"They said they'll be down later, Nick's playing Sonic the Hedgehog again with Drew, and they refused to turn it off until they killed some bad guy. Their father got them a Playstation for Christmas and now all they want to do is play video games." Teri shook her head resignedly. "Thank God Johnny didn't get it before they learned to read, otherwise I'd be the only librarian in Brick with illiterate children."

"Sometimes I think some of my students are illiterate, the way they follow directions," Snape said. "And they don't even have the excuse of playing video games."

Teri eyed him thoughtfully. "That's right, you're a teacher, aren't you?"

"I teach Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Tell me something. Have you ever wanted to strangle your students?"

"Everyday," Snape answered honestly. "Some of them could drive me right over the edge with the stupid things they do. Why?"

"Oh, good. Then I'm not alone." Teri said in relief. "Because some of the little brats that come into the library make me want to hang them upside down by their toes on the ceiling. Two days ago I caught one seven-year-old sticking gum all over the picture books. He had a whole pack of Juicy Fruit and was chewing it up and sticking it all over a pile of Disney Princess books. It was a surprise for his sister, he said!" Teri said angrily. "I wanted to give _him _a surprise all right, a piece of gum that stuck his damn jaw together."

"What did his mother say when you told her what he'd been doing?" Severus asked.

Teri rolled her eyes in disgust. "The usual, oh my son's an angel bit and of course he'd never do anything like that. And the little snot is agreeing with her, lying through his teeth, and of course she believes him and not me, though why the hell I'd be lying about something like that is beyond me. Then they leave and I'm left with a stack of books covered with gum that takes me hours to fix, even with magic."

"I know exactly what you mean," Severus said feelingly. "I had a parent write me once demanding to know why I gave his brilliant son three detentions in a row. Apparently, the boy had written home complaining I was being too strict with him, and then I get this letter ordering me to explain myself!_ I_ should explain myself! Since when does a professor have to justify detentions with parents, I ask you? If it had been _my _son, I'd have been asking him to explain the reason why he'd earned such discipline in the first place. So I wrote back and told the father exactly what his "perfect child" had done in my class, which was absolutely nothing. He refused to turn in any homework, played pranks on all his classmates, was insolent and rude to me, and failed every exam I ever gave him. And was I supposed to sit back and say oh that's all right Smythe, you can do whatever you bloody want and I'll still give you a passing grade? Not in this life!"

"What did his father say to that?"

Snape scowled. "About the same thing your mother did, if I remember correctly. That it was my fault as a teacher, not his son's as a lazy spoiled brat of a student. So I failed his son and he appealed to the Headmaster, who told him that I was perfectly within my rights to do so as the boy hadn't done any work worth a grade and recommended he get a personal tutor. I recommended he give the smug brat a spanking, but I doubt Dumbledore relayed that to Smythe's father, more's the pity."

"Did you have to teach him again next year?"

"No, thank God, because his father pulled him from Hogwarts, claimed it wasn't up to his standards and sent the little demon to France to terrorize the professors there. I almost threw a party when I learned he wasn't coming back next term."

"Does that sort of thing happen often, Sev?"

"No, most of the time the parents trust us to know what we're doing, and detentions at the school are never served using magic as a punishment or any form of corporeal punishment either. I usually make students who misbehave in my class do boring or nasty chores, like chopping up a whole barrel of acacia roots or pickling rat organs."

"Or scrubbing your dungeon." Arista added with a smirk, recalling Brittany Marsh's detention last fall.

"Wish I had that option," sighed Teri in envy. "But the worst I can do is make the parent pay for the book the child ruined, or telling the kid to get out of my library. Which I actually did one time, because a bunch of rowdy fourth-graders were playing football and knocking down half my displays. They left, but not before I heard one of them call me a wicked witch. Kid, you have no idea how much of a witch I am, I wanted to say."

All of them chuckled at that, and Teri took another bite of her Danish. Suddenly, she cocked her head, and muttered, "Uh oh. I don't hear my kids, and that's a bad sign. Means they're up to no good." She started to get to her feet.

As if on cue, there came a child's high pitched yell. "Mom! Nick hit me in the head with his broomstick."

"Because he turned off the Playstation, Mom!" shouted the other twin. "So he deserved it!"

"Did not!"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Teri swore. "I'm going to beat them both over the head with the damn broomstick." Then she bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "Nicholas and Andrew Marciano! How many times do I have to tell you, keep your hands to yourself? I'm throwing the Playstation out the window, I swear it!"

"No! You can't! It was a Christmas present," cried one of her sons.

"Yeah, you can't throw out a Christmas present, Mom! You'll go to hell, Father Murray said so."

The adults exchanged glances and Snape saw Ari's shoulders quiver with suppressed laughter.

"I'm already in hell, the way you two are fighting," they heard her say. "No more Playstation for a week. No, I don't want to hear it. Now go downstairs and say hello to your Uncle Sev and your cousin Arista, they've come all the way from London for a visit."

"How? On a broomstick?"

"Of course not, stupid! You can't fly all the way across the ocean on a broomstick," said his brother scornfully. "Don't you know _anything_, Drew?"

"Nicholas!" his mother said sharply. "I can still change my mind."

"But it's true! You _can't _fly across the ocean on a broomstick."

"Then how'd they get here?"

"I'm sure your uncle will be happy to answer that question, Drew." Teri said, then shepherded her children down the stairs and into the kitchen.

The twins, who were eight, and not identical, after shaking hands with Snape and Arista, immediately pelted them with questions, including the all important one of how they had arrived in America. When they heard that Arista had arrived on a bronze dragon, they declared that was the coolest way to travel and wanted to know why they'd never gotten a ride on Fireflash yet.

"Because you'd drive him crazy," their mother answered. "And then he'd want to drop you into the ocean, Drew." Drew was the dark-haired twin, he had turquoise eyes and was wearing a red shirt and brown shorts.

"Wouldn't matter," the little boy shrugged. "I can swim."

"Not if the sharks got you," put in Nick, who was blond and had dark eyes. He had on a green shirt and black shorts.

Drew glared at his twin. "I'd tell him to drop you off at the bad orphan home first."

"What one is that?" Arista asked curiously.

"The one Mom says we're going to if we don't behave," Nick answered. "Where they make you eat vegetables for every meal and send you to bed at seven o'clock and never let you watch TV or play video games."

"And they make you do homework every night," Drew added. "And clean your room and do your own laundry too. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is you have to be nice to your brother. All the time. Even when you want to punch him out."

"Sounds awful." Arista said, biting her lip hard to keep from exploding in laughter. Behind her, the adults were having similar problems.

"I know. And I ain't never goin' there," the little boy confided. "But Nick might, if he doesn't stop driving Mom crazy. Right, Mom?"

Teri put her head in her hands. "I think the both of you are going to put me in a home."

"Really? They've got a home for grown-ups?" Nick asked.

"Uh-huh. It's called an insane asylum," his mother said.

"Teresa! What a thing to say," her mother cried.

"You used to say the same thing to Amelia and me when we were kids," her daughter pointed out.

The twins looked at one another. Then they looked at their grandmother. "Is that true, Nana?" they asked in practically the same breath. "Did Mom drive you crazy too?"

"Um . . .well, yes, her and your aunts did a pretty good job of it when she was your age," Ari admitted.

"I think all children drive their parents crazy at one time or another," Severus put in.

Nick looked at him. "Does Arista drive you crazy, Uncle Sev?"

"All the time."

"Dad! I do not!" she protested.

"Half the time then. The other half I spend wondering what new things you're thinking up to torment me," he said with a smirk.

"Come on, Dad! I'm not _that_ bad. I haven't gotten in trouble at all this summer."

"I know. That's what worries me."

"Real nice," she muttered. She looked at the twins. "Hey, you want to come outside and play with my dog? His name's Scout, he's a magehound."

"Yeah! Where is he?" Nick was on his feet so fast he nearly knocked his chair over.

"Can he track anything magic?" Drew wanted to know.

"Yes, we can play a game with him called hide the magic ball," Arista told them. "It's how the Hunters trained him to track down criminals." She led the way outside, followed eagerly by the twins.

After they had departed, Teri arched an eyebrow at Snape and said, "Arista doesn't seem like the type to get into all that much trouble, Sev."

"Nevertheless, trouble seems to find her." Snape sighed. "But she does try to be good, I'll give her that. Unlike half the teenagers I teach. But don't ever tell her I said that. Otherwise—"

"—she'll think she can walk all over you," Teri finished with a grin. "I know all about the Parental Conspiracy, believe me."

* * * * * *

While Arista and the twins played track and find with Scout outside, Ari finished cleaning up from breakfast and then decided it was time to start making lunch. Leo, recognizing the gleam in his wife's eye, beat a hasty retreat outside to his garden, escaping just in time. Ari therefore drafted Teri and Severus into being her helpers as she prepared various kinds of salads, an antipasto tray, stromboli, and a pan of chicken parmigiana.

Severus stared at the counter and wondered who else was coming to eat lunch. Teri simply groaned. "Ma, why the heck are we making lunch now? We just ate breakfast, nobody's hungry."

"I know, dear. But they will be in about three hours or so," Ari answered serenely, as she began breading chicken cutlets. "Here, Teri. You can cut up the basil for the tomato salad," she shoved what looked like an entire basil plant over to her daughter, who took it and a cutting board to the table. Then she looked over at Snape. "Do you like to cook, Sev?"

"Yes. Amelia taught me how."

"Good. Then you can slice up the pepperoni. Don't make it too thin though." She handed him three sticks of pepperoni plus a razor sharp knife and another cutting board.

He took them and went to sit down at the table. "Who are we making all of this food for?" he asked Teri, beginning to slice the pepperoni with a quick easy motion.

"The Marines. The whole Eastern seaboard. Who knows?" Teri rolled her eyes, chopping basil deftly. "This is a typical lunch in my mother's house. I warned you, didn't I?"

"I heard that, Teresa! Never mind who it's for, just do what I tell you," Ari ordered crisply.

Teri huffed exasperatedly. "God help me, but she treats me like I was ten years old, and I'm a mother of twins." Yet her hands continued to chop basil into small pieces expertly.

Severus couldn't resist grinning. "That's a mother's prerogative, I think."

"Ha! You won't be so smug, Professor, once she starts ordering _you _around like she does the rest of us."

Snape didn't reply for a moment, he was too busy finishing the first stick of pepperoni. He set the slices aside in a bowl that suddenly appeared at his elbow. Then he began on the next one. "When she does, if she does, I'll know better than to argue with her," he said with just a touch of arrogance in his tone.

"Suck up. Just like a man." Teri muttered, glaring at him over the mound of basil.

"The hell I am," he snapped, glaring right back at her.

"Children! Quit bickering, the pair of you," Ari ordered sharply, making both of them start guiltily.

Severus exchanged sheepish grins with Teri. "Guess we were acting like a pair of five year olds. Truce?"

"Truce. But Mom still likes _me_ best," Teri said, then put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God, did I just say that out loud? I used to say that to Amelia when we were growing up and she made us get yelled at for something."

"Blaming her for your own mistakes?" he asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"When we were kids, yeah. Everyone does it, it's a time-honored tactic of sibling rivalry. I'll bet you did it too."

He shook his head. "Wrong. I didn't have anyone to blame since it was just me growing up, so I was always in trouble. Whether or not I deserved it."

"You were an only child?" Teri repeated. "That must have been lonely for you, growing up."

"It was, a little. But I never knew what I was missing."

"There were times I used to wish I was an only child, when I was thirteen and fighting like cats and dogs with Amy and Sandy. But now, looking back on it, I'm glad wasn't." Teri admitted softly. "No matter how much we fought, they were always there for me when I needed them. Especially Amy. She used to beat up anybody that teased me at school. And the both of us looked out for Sandy." She smiled reminiscently. "We used to say, if you mess with one Amarotti sister, you mess with all of us."

"Was that ever the truth!" Ari sighed from the counter, casting her daughter a fond look. "One time the principle called me from work to tell me that all of them were in his office, suspended for beating up the two Jackson brothers. All three of them!"

"The three of you beat up two boys? How old were you?"

"I think Amy was ten, which means I was eight and Sandy was six. The Jacksons were probably around Amelia's age. And they deserved what they got too. One of them stole Sandy's lunch and threw it into street, where a car ran it over, so I punched him in the nose. Then he yelled for his brother and he came over and called us some name, some Italian slur, Guinea WOP, and went to hit me, which brought Amy charging to the rescue like a wildcat."

"The two of them looked like they'd been through Vietnam, Sev. Even Sandy, she'd gotten knocked down, and bitten one of those boys in the leg, I think. I was mortified, I mean, you expect that kind of thing from your sons, not your daughters."

"She threatened us all with a spanking as soon as she told our father, but once we told her why we'd trounced the Jackson boys, she changed her mind. I think the only punishment we got, besides being suspended from school, was being sent to bed without supper."

Severus shook his head in mock disapproval. "Sounds like you were all a bunch of troublemakers."

"Oh, and like you were an angel, huh, Snape?" Teri snorted. "I'll bet you earned yourself detention a time or two, Professor."

"Well . . .maybe once," he admitted, then gave in at her knowing stare. "All right, it was a lot more than once. I had an ongoing war with four other boys and we got each other in trouble on a regular basis."

"Four against one? What the hell kind of odds are those, Sev?"

"Terrible ones, until I learned enough magic to fight back successfully." Severus answered. "Then I gave as good as I got and then some."

"Sounds like you could have used us to help you."

"I probably could've. But I would have been too proud to ask."

"We wouldn't have waited for you to. We would have just jumped right in and whaled on whoever was fighting with you," Teri said. "When you mess with one Amarotti you mess with them all. That was true then and it still is."

"I'll remember that next time I'm outnumbered four to one," he said, smiling.

"Sandy and I will come running," Teri assured him. "And we'll kick their ass between the three of us, trust me on that."

"Of that, I haven't the slightest doubt." Then he went back to slicing pepperoni. Those simple words brought a warm glow to his heart, for he could sense she meant every word of them._ I could have used someone like you back when I was in school_, he thought but did not say aloud. _Maybe if I'd had what you did, I wouldn't have been tempted onto the dark path. Ah well, all that was long ago and far away. You can't change the past, and as for the present, well, better late than never._

Once they had finished making all of the food and had arranged it on the counter and the kitchen table, Severus mentally counted how many members of the family there were to eat it. He came up with seven people, and two of those were children. There was enough food there to feed half of Hogwarts and still have some left over, he thought in dismay.

There was a huge pan of chicken parmigiana, a platter of antipasto that could have fed twelve people, tomato salad, macaroni salad, Italian potato salad, tuna salad, stromboli, a tri-color pasta salad, bread, grilled eggplant, a platter of cheeses, wine, fruit, more cookies, pastries, and a tiramisu. _There is no way on God's green earth that we can eat all of this. Or even part of this. Hagrid would have trouble eating a third of it, never mind the rest of us. Maybe she invited the rest of the neighborhood and didn't tell us._

Ari went to the door and called in the children for lunch. Two seconds later, Arista, the twins, and Scout entered the house, sounding like a stampeding herd of buffalo.

Arista took one look at the all the food and whistled softly. "Wow! Who's coming over to eat, Dad? The Army?"

"Your grandmother mistook us for the Marine Corps, kid," quipped Teri. "And tomorrow we can have a bake sale with the leftovers."

"Behave, Teresa!" Ari scolded, giving her daughter a swat with her dishtowel. "I invited your Uncle Andrea over and Mark and Dan too."

"Oh good. So now we'll only have half the food left over, Ma, instead of three quarters," Teri teased, and ducked her mother's return swat.

Drew tugged on her sleeve. "Mom, what if there's nothing here I want to eat?"

"Just shut up and eat it anyway," she answered. He groaned. "What's your grandpa always say, Andrew?"

"You don't waste good food. Except none of its good."

"Drew, you eat chicken parmigiana. And I know you eat stromboli. Now quit giving me a hard time."

The little boy scowled at the table. Then he went to sit down. On his way there he passed by Severus and said, "I'll bet your mom never made _you _eat any of this when you were a kid."

"True. Because we never had any of this," he answered.

"There, you see? You should be thankful for what you've got, Drew," his mother said.

"Oh, I am," the little boy muttered under his breath. "Not."

Then Nick came into the room. "Mom, I'm not hungry."

"Too bad. You can just shut up and eat anyway," came his twin's reply.

"Who asked _you_?" Nick demanded. "You're not the boss of me."

"Am too. I was born first."

"Only by ten minutes."

"So what? That still makes me older."

"Don't care. You're still not the boss of me."

"_Enough_," Snape growled, for the boys' bickering was getting on his nerves. "Both of you, sit down and be quiet. Now." He used the same tone of voice he did on his students when they were dangerously close to getting a detention.

It had the same effect on the twins as it did on any Hogwarts student. Both boys froze, took one look at him, and said, "Yes, sir." Then they obeyed.

Teri shot him an appreciative look. "You're gonna have to teach me how to do that, Sev."

"Attitude, tone, and fourteen years of teaching," he answered, then went to sit down next to Arista.

Just as they had begun to eat, Leo's brother Andrea arrived with his two sons, Mark and Dan, in tow. The boys were typical teenagers, both lanky with their first growth spurt, dark-haired and dark-eyed, about a year or two older than Arista. Dan was the elder, sixteen, he was quiet, and handsome as sin. His brother, Mark, had a teasing air about him, though Arista thought he was equally as good-looking as his brother.

One glance at her uncle, Andrea, told her where the two had come by their good looks. Andrea was the quintessential Italian gentleman. The kind they used to refer to as a lady-killer. But he seemed oddly unconcerned with his looks, most handsome men were usually quite aware of their charm, like Hathaway and his kind. Then Arista recalled that her uncle was an empath as well, and she had the answer to his attitude. An empath was unconcerned with appearances for the most part, because he'd learned to see beyond the surface of a person to their soul. An empath like Andrea would know better than to judge a person simply on appearances, for what mattered was what a person looked like inside, not outside.

After all the introductions had been made, the three Amarottis sat down to eat. "Man, look at all this food!" exclaimed Mark. "I'm starving." He began to take some of everything.

"Me too. And we can take some of it home too," Dan said, also piling food on his plate.

"Now why couldn't I get kids like that?" Teri muttered enviously, though only Severus heard her. The twins, after their uncle's reprimand, were behaving themselves, at least.

At last, when everyone had stuffed themselves, and were sitting around trying to digest the enormous meal, Mark looked over at Arista and asked, "You ever play hockey, Arista?"

"Ice hockey?"

"No, I mean spelled hockey," her cousin explained. "It's like street hockey, sort of, you use roller blades and we play it on the driveway. But the puck's spelled, see, so it appears and disappears all over the place. Makes it a bit more challenging than regular hockey. Can you skate?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We used to play something similar when I lived in Stroudsburg, only without the magic."

"Want to play with us? It's just me, Dan, and the rugrats here," he indicated the twins. "You can be on my team, along with Drew, since I'm the best player out of us."

His brother snorted. "You mean you think you're the better player."

"Who made team Captain, me or you?" Mark asked softly.

"Whatever." Dan shrugged, not minded to argue the fact.

"You play on a team?" Arista asked.

"Not an official one," Mark clarified, amused. "It's just Dan and me and a bunch of our friends on this street. We play against the kids on the street across from us, they're all wizard kids like us. Last time we had a tournament, we stomped them into the dirt. You game?"

"Sure, I'll play."

"It's perfectly safe," Dan reassured her. "We wear helmets and we cast Excelsior shield charms on everyone, so even if the puck hits you, it doesn't hurt. And we don't check girls either."

"Why can't we check girls?" Nick asked, puzzled.

"'Cause guys don't check girls, that's why. Unless you're eight, shrimp. Then I think she can handle a check from you," Dan told his cousin. "Now knock off the dumb questions."

"But Dan, how come Drew gets three people on his team and we only have two? It's not fair."

"Yeah, it is. The most experienced player, that's Mark, always gets the least experienced, that's Arista, so he can teach her. And Drew's on his team because the two of you can't play without fighting, so you might as well be on opposite teams," his cousin said exasperatedly.

"It's still not fair." Nick pouted.

"Look, if you're gonna be a whiny brat, you can stay here. I don't play with crybabies. Now, what's it gonna be?" he gave the younger boy a warning stare.

"I'll play."

"Okay. Since we don't have enough people to have a goalie, that means we're gonna use the golem." Mark said, then added for Arista's benefit, "A golem's a construct, in this case a rock spelled to act like a goalie for the net for this game. You want to set it up, Dan?"

"Sure." The older boy rose to his feet. "That means you get to spell the rugrats. Meet you outside."

Mark nodded and Dan left the room, heading into the garage, where the hockey equipment was stored. Then he beckoned to Nick, who was bouncing excitedly from foot to foot. "Stop jumping like that," he ordered. "Stand still." The little boy obeyed. Mark pointed his finger at him and said, "Excelsio!"

A swirl of blue sparks flew about the child, hardening into a protective magical shield that clung to the boy like a second skin. The Excelsior shield charm was a stronger version of the normal Shield Charm, and could repel more force, a necessary thing in a game of hockey.

"Your turn," Mark said to Drew. He repeated the charm. "Okay, you're done. Go get your skates on, brats."

The twins raced outside. Mark cocked his head at Arista. "We can spell a pair of skates to fit you, but I think Marcy's ought to be okay. She's our cousin, she used to play with us before she left for college." He pointed at himself and spoke the Excelsior Charm again.

Arista did the same, feeling the shield settle about her like a chill second skin. Then she followed Mark out to the garage to put on her skates and helmet_._

**A/N: So how do you like the Amarottis? Get ready for a spelled hockey game next, which is a game I invented in honor of my nephew Joey.**


	5. Five for Fighting

**Five for Fighting**

﻿Arista laced up her skates, then helped Drew with his. Nearby, Mark assisted Nick,  
tying the younger boy's skates and then fastening his helmet securely on his head. When they were all set, they skated out of the garage, where Dan was waiting in front of the net.

The golem, which had started out as a rock, had now been enlarged and transfigured  
into a semblance of a person, complete with hockey helmet and pads and a goalie's mitts and stick. The net was at the far end of the driveway, facing the street.

"We have to put it there, 'cause last time we had it facing the house and Mark  
bounced the puck off the net and it hit the house and broke a window." Dan told Arista.

"Got myself grounded for a week," his brother said ruefully. "So now we play this  
way." He held out the puck, which was sparkling with magical energy. "Ready?" Arista  
nodded, gripping her stick in her right hand. "Dan and I'll do the first face off. Just  
remember, watch the puck, and try to get to it before it blinks away. It's hard at first, but  
you'll get the hang of it eventually. It only blinks when it's on the ground, not after you've hit it. I'll be forward, you be center, and Drew can be defense."

He set the puck down and spoke the word that would release the spell stored in the  
puck. "_Attasio_!"

The puck began to vibrate. He crouched on one side of the puck facing his brother.  
"On three. One. Two. Three." Then they went for the puck, slamming at it with their sticks.

Mark won the face-off, sending the puck skittering towards the net, with Dan in hot  
pursuit.

But just before Dan's stick could whack the vibrating disk, the puck blinked out,  
reappearing on the opposite side of the driveway, near Arista. Arista skated towards it, hitting it before it blinked out, sending it back towards little Drew.

"Pass it here, Drew!" Mark called.

The eight-year-old hit the puck, but he couldn't get the necessary force to reach his  
cousin, who was standing all the way down the driveway.

The puck slid halfway down to the older boy before blinking out again.

This time it reappeared to the right of the net, and Mark and Dan scrambled for it,  
Mark's shoulder bumping his brother hard, sending the older boy backwards.

Then the fifteen-year-old curved around on his skates and caught the puck just before  
it blinked, slapping it back towards the golem in the net with a deft flick.

The golem put up a hand to block the shot, but was a fraction of a second too slow.  
The puck slipped by it, settling into the net with a sharp thunk.

"He shoots, he scores!" cheered Drew and skated up to Mark to give him a high five.  
"One to zero, Nick! One to zero!"

"Nice one," Arista said, grinning at her cousin.

"Thanks." Mark said. "That wasn't a hard shot." He collared his younger cousin.  
"Stop that. We haven't won yet, so quit acting like a little rooster, got me? You only  
celebrate after the game's over."

Chastened, Drew quit parading in front of his twin and skated back behind Mark,  
who was center now, and Arista was forward.

She faced-off against Nick, who tried to look scary by grimacing at her. She  
chuckled at the kid, distracting him so that when the count of three was reached, he wasn't ready, and she got the puck and took it down the driveway, skating as quickly as she could towards the net.

The puck flickered. She shot, but it bounced off the side of the net, flying through  
the air. She gasped in horror as it struck Dan on the shoulder, forgetting for a moment that he was protected by the Excelsior Charm.

He shrugged off the hit and smacked the puck sideways, skating around Drew's  
attempt to block him. But the puck blinked out, reappearing all the way up the driveway, and making everyone race for it.

Arista soon discovered that the puck was never still for long, it blinked in and out  
every three seconds or so, unless one of the kids managed to hit it. At first, the elusive flickering disk proved hard to catch, and she had to work hard for every shot. But soon her old skill on skates came back to her, and she could outskate the twins and sometimes Dan as well, though he had a longer reach than she did.

Mark was far and away her superior, he was so quick on his skates he might have  
been a cat. She could see now why he'd been nominated team Captain. He could spin and turn like lightning, and he always seemed to see where the puck was before anyone else.

He scored again for the second time about ten minutes into the second face-off, this  
time sending the puck through the golem's legs in a wicked rebound shot off the right side of the net. "Yeah! Who's the best _now_, Dan?" he cried, grinning triumphantly at his brother.

Little Drew was in transports. "We're gonna win! We're gonna win!"

"Are not! We can still kick your butt!" his twin shouted. "Right, Dan?"

"Sure we can. They just got lucky."

The two brothers faced off yet again.

After forty-five minutes, the score stood at 3 to 2, in Arista's favor. She had scored  
the last goal, much to her delight. Mark had clapped her on the back afterwards. "You  
catch on quick, Arista. Better than Marcy even."

"I like this game. It's fun."

He nodded. "Maybe better than Quidditch, huh?"

"You don't like Quidditch?"

He shook his head. "It's okay. But I like hockey better. I'm not real fond of flying,  
know what I mean?"

Arista understood immediately. Her cousin was afraid of heights. Which pretty  
much banned him from ever playing on a Quidditch team. It was too bad, because with his reflexes, Mark could have been a phenomenal Seeker. Still, what he could do with a hockey puck was nothing short of amazing. She admired his grit, he had taken his disability and turned it into something he could live with, by inventing a game that he was good at.

He reminded her a bit of Drake Lockwood, who, once he had overcome his stutter,  
had proved to be one of the best spellcasters at Hogwarts. _I'll bet Drake and Kit would like this game. Maybe I can get Mark to show me how to spell the puck and animate the golem, and when I get back to school, I can show them and even Mel and Trish how to play. Maybe we'll start a spelled hockey club, if we can get enough people interested in it. _  
The hockey game was not quite as thrilling as Quidditch, perhaps, because the  
element of danger was not the same, but even so, Arista felt certain others would like to learn it. It took a good deal of skill to skate after the puck and try to shoot it when it kept blinking out. And though the two older boys remained true to their word and didn't attempt to check her, she was forever being shoved into by Nick, who seemed to delight in the contact. The one time he attempted to check Mark, though, he ended up knocked on his behind, for his cousin was much bigger and his shield charm repelled the younger boy with ease.

The twins routinely checked each other so hard they were knocked sprawling, but  
because of the shield charm, neither was seriously hurt, and managed to get to their feet and continue playing within a few minutes. The same was true of Dan and Mark, who occasionally knocked each other off their feet while fighting over the puck. In a real game, one in which they played against boys of equal stature, she was certain the two would be much rougher, the way they were in pro hockey.

Arista was enjoying herself so much she didn't even really care if her team won or  
not. Neither did Mark or Dan, whom she suspected just liked to play for the sheer joy of it. Such was not the case, however, with Nick and Drew, who were too young to appreciate the subtleties of playing for the love of the game, and were only concerned with winning.

Dan had managed to even up the score, so it was now tied 3 to 3. He faced off  
against Arista, and even though he towered over her, she managed to slip under his guard and grab the puck.

But instead of taking the puck down to the goal herself, she flicked it back to Mark,  
who took it and tried for a shot on the net. The puck blinked out before he could shoot,  
however, reappearing back up the driveway and off to the right.

Dan circled around Drew, snagged it, and then passed it to Nick, who tried for a shot,  
but he wasn't quick enough and the golem picked it up and threw it back into play.

"Mark!" Arista shouted as the puck rolled to a stop. "You're closer than I am! Go  
for it."

Her cousin gave her a nod, then began skating full speed down the driveway,  
determined to get to the sparkling disk before it blinked out. Dan tried to catch his brother, but he couldn't match Mark's speed and soon fell back, panting.

Drew was jumping up and down, yelling, "Go, Mark, go! Score again!" He was  
waving his stick in the air like a banner.

Mark drew ever closer to the sparkling puck, his skates blurring, stick extended to  
slam the puck home.

Suddenly, Nick, who was about two feet in front of Mark off to the right, skated at  
the puck and stumbled, falling full length on the ground right in Mark's path.

There was no way the other boy could stop in time, he was simply skating too fast.

Arista opened her mouth to yell a warning, knowing all the while it was too late, that  
there was nothing she could do to stop the accident from occurring. She doubted that even Excelsior would keep the child from getting seriously injured, for the charm wasn't designed to withstand a head on collision with one hundred and fifty pounds of teenager skating at full speed.

She waited in dread for the crunch of skate meeting flesh and bone, for Nick's  
scream of pain.

But the accident waiting to happen did not occur.

For Mark, knowing he couldn't stop in time, didn't even attempt to do so. Instead  
he performed the quickest flying charm Arista ever saw, and soared right over the prostrate child some twenty feet into the air.

White-faced and shaking, he landed just in front of the net, almost knocking over the  
golem. The puck blinked out, reappearing right in front of Dan, who didn't even bother to go for it.

Arista skated over to Nick. "Are you okay?" she asked, helping him up.

To her shock, the kid wasn't even shaken by his near brush with disaster. Instead he  
was grinning, a smug grin that made her suspect something was not all it should be. "I'm fine! But wasn't that an ace move, falling in front of Mark to block his way?" Nick asked.

"You—you did that on _purpose_?" Arista cried, appalled.

"You **_what_**?" Mark roared, having gotten himself under control once more. He  
skated towards his cousins, two red spots appearing on his cheeks, his eyes flashing. "You deliberately fell in front of me?" he demanded, grabbing the younger boy by the shirt and picking him up off the ground.

"I-I _had_ to!" Nick gulped, whimpering as he saw his cousin's furious eyes. "It was  
the only way we could win the game."

"You _stupid_ brat!" Mark snarled, shaking Nick hard. "Is that all you care about?  
Christ Almighty, I almost _killed _you, d' you know that? Excelsior wouldn't have been able to absorb me hitting you full force with my skates like that, you dumb little jerk!" He was so angry he was practically spitting.

"B-but Mark, you never touched me." Nick sniffled.

"Because I _flew_ over you at the last damn minute," his cousin growled. "And you  
know how I _hate_ flying, Nicholas Marciano."

"I'm sorry," the child wailed. "I didn't mean to make you fly, honest."

The other boy scowled, then set his cousin down. "You're a total idiot, and if you  
ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll wallop you into next week, got me?" The kid nodded, hanging his head. "Now, you can sit out the rest of this period, five minutes penalty, Marciano."

Nick jerked his head up. "But that's only for fighting, Mark!"

"It's for whatever I say it is, brat! You gonna argue with me?" he took a step towards  
the child, his hand lifted.

Nick went backwards so fast he landed on his bottom. "No! I'll be good." He  
scrambled to his feet and skated over to the edge of the lawn, where he sat down sulkily.

"Ha! That'd be a first!" Dan said, shaking his head in disgust. "You still want to  
play, Mark?"

"Yeah. Let's finish this. You can have Drew or Arista, take your pick."

Dan, no fool, chose Arista, and they finished out the game, with Mark scoring the  
winning goal, assisted by Drew, who actually paid attention to his cousin's instructions, unlike his twin.

"C'mon, get up," Mark said gruffly, skating over to a sullen Nick and helping him  
to his feet. "Don't ever do anything like that again, you hear?"

"I won't."

"Promise me."

"I promise," the little boy said.

"You win games by skating better than the other player, Nick, not by dumb stunts,"  
Mark told him in a gentler tone. "Speed and skill, see? That's how I win, not by trying to cheat."

"But I can't skate like you."

"That's why you practice, kid," Dan said. "If you practice everyday the way Mark  
does, maybe someday you'll be as good as he is."

"You practice _everyday_?" Nick repeated in an awed tone.

"For two hours," his cousin said, removing his helmet and brushing the sweat off his  
brow with his sleeve. "That's partly why I can skate the way I do."

"Practice makes perfect," Arista added, then realized she sounded like her father and  
grinned to herself. "Maybe we can play again at the picnic on the Fourth of July."

Dan nodded. "We usually do. There're more cousins here then, older ones who can  
make the teams more even. Then I can play goalie, like I usually do."

"Are there more girl cousins or boys?" Arista wanted to know.

"Boys," Mark answered. "Marcy was one of the few older girl cousins we've got.  
But she might not be at the picnic, she's got a job for the summer, so she can pay for college or something. The only other girl cousin is Marietta, and she's just a baby. Well, she's three and a half."

"Whose kid is she?"

"Aunt Sandy's," answered Nick. "She's the only kid they've got so far."

"And she's a spoiled rotten princess," Dan grimaced. "We call her Marietta the  
Menace, 'cause she's always causing trouble."

"Marietta the Major Pain in the Ass, you mean," Drew blurted, and was promptly  
swatted on the head by Dan. "Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Watch your mouth, kid! You know you're not allowed to swear like that." The older  
boy scolded. "One's got a death wish and the other one's got a mouth like a sewer. I'd have gotten my butt walloped if I used language like that when I was that age."

"Or my mouth washed out with soap," Arista said, recalling Mrs. Dowd's dislike of  
children who used foul language.

"That too," Mark agreed. "But he is right. Marietta's a royal pain. But you'll see  
for yourself when you meet her."

"What does she do?"

"Follows you around mostly, and is annoying as blazes," Dan replied, unlacing his  
skates. "She's too little to do much, but she wants to do what we do, and she can't  
understand why we won't let her play with us. Then when we tell her no, she has a fit."

"And she _screams_," Drew added, shuddering.

"Oh yeah, does she ever. Her scream could be heard round the world," Mark said,  
laughing. "Just wait till the Fourth, Arista. You'll see Marietta in action then."

"Aren't there any, um, little kids for her to play with?"

"Nope. She's the youngest of us, 'cept for me and Drew," Nick said. "And I'm sick  
of playing with her, she doesn't know any good games."

"Maybe she can play with my cat, Comfrey. She likes little kids," Arista suggested,  
thinking that if the toddler were occupied, she might not be such a pest.

"Maybe," Mark said, but he sounded doubtful. He picked up his skates and started  
to walk back inside the garage. "I need something to drink after that game."

The others all agreed with him, and they all trooped inside to get soda or iced tea  
from the fridge. Arista leaned against the kitchen table, slowly sipping her glass of iced tea, wondering what new surprises the Fourth of July picnic would have in store. With the Amarottis, she knew this get together would be anything but ordinary.

**A/N: Well, how about that hockey game? Those twins are something, aren't they? And just wait till you meet Marietta, who's a real ball of mischief and going to drive Sev crazy!**


	6. The 4th of July Picnic

**The 4th of July Picnic**

﻿The backyard of the beach house was decorated with twinkling red, white, and blue  
fairy lights. They hung sparkling like fireflies over all the bushes and the trees. Leo had also strung red, white, and blue Japanese paper lanterns across the yard, each of them holding a small pebble inside that had been light spelled. Streamers were twisted about the railings of the stairs and stuck on the house, and several picnic tables and benches had been set out on the lawn, with a tablecloth printed with flags on it covering each one. For center pieces, there were little blue tin pails filled with various kinds of candy, mostly things like Acid Pops, Sugar Pops, Candy Rats, and Fizzing Whizbees. An American flag flew proudly on the flagpole beside the house.

There was a small white tent erected off to the side of the barbecue, where several  
long tables filled with food were placed. Large coolers spelled to keep everything cold were set up along the side of the house and contained various kinds of drinks, mostly bottled fruit juice, butterbeer, water, and soda. There was another cooler for the adults only, that had alcoholic drinks in it, like honey wine, mead, blackberry brandy, and tiny bottles of firewhisky. That one also had an Age Detecting spell on it to prevent anyone under the age of twenty-one from opening it.

Since the picnic was an all day affair, the food outside on the tables in the early  
afternoon was mostly finger food, chips with dip, vegetables, salads, an antipasto tray, and mini subs and such. The real food would be cooked later on, when it was time for supper.

Severus was relaxing on one of the picnic benches, he'd spent most of the morning  
helping Leo spray his climbing roses with the growth solution he'd made the night before. Thus far, the roses seemed to have perked up, and they were growing up the trellis at a good rate, leafing out and opening up at about two or three blooms per hour. The sweet scent of rose blossoms filled the air, competing with the smell of the food on the tables.

The Potions Master had also spent the last hour and a half breading his fried chicken  
with Arista's assistance, for he had wanted to cook something by way of a thank you to his relatives for putting up with him and Arista for over a week. He had consulted Arista, who had immediately recommended the fried chicken and biscuits with gravy. The biscuits were already made, they and the gravy simply needed to be heated up with a simple warming spell before serving. The chicken was breaded and could be fried just before dinner.

His in-laws were eager to try it, especially after Arista had bragged to them that her  
dad's fried chicken was the best on the planet because of the secret ingredient he used. The Amarotti women had immediately tried to pry the secret out of him, to no avail, for Snape wasn't talking. But he would be happy to make the chicken for them, even if he wouldn't share the special blend of herbs and spices he used on it.

More Amarotti cousins, aunts, uncles, and Sandy and her husband Paul and their  
little daughter Marietta, began arriving sometime around eleven in the morning. All of them had been eager to welcome their new relatives from Britain, and now Arista was engaged in yet another game of spelled hockey with her cousins on the driveway.

The beagles, Ace and Rowdy, along with Scout, were lounging in the shade of a large  
sugar maple in the yard. The dogs' ears perked up every time the door to the house opened and someone came out carrying a platter of food. Snape knew they were just waiting for someone to trip or leave a plate unguarded for a split second. The dogs would start begging in earnest once suppertime came round.

Comfrey and the three kittens were sunning themselves on the deck, uncaring if  
people had to step over them. No one minded that much, Severus had already observed that most of the Amarottis were animal lovers.

The Amarotti women were all in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the  
various dishes for supper. He'd offered to help, but they'd told him he'd done enough  
already and shooed him outside. He decided he'd earned an hour or two of quiet time, and he'd gotten a bottle of honey wine from the cooler and settled at a table to drink it slowly, since he hardly ever drank alcohol.

Some of the other cousins and uncles were gathered around a table, playing some  
kind of adult version of Exploding Snap. A few others were discussing current political  
issues, both in the wizarding community and the White House. Severus had observed that the wizards in the States mingled a great deal more freely with Muggles than their  
counterparts in Britain, there were even some Muggle relatives at this party.

Severus did not feel like talking of politics at the moment, nor did he want to play  
cards, so he remained where he was, content to observe the goings on and unwind. He was dressed casually, in a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a white long-sleeved shirt with a US flag on it, his concession to the American holiday. He took another sip of his wine, enjoying the slight breeze that blew through the trees. His wand was in his pocket, he'd used it recently to cast a slippery hex on the flagpole after he caught the twins trying to scale it for the third time.

Leo appeared from the direction of the garage, he'd been securing the fireworks for  
tonight's entertainment. The fireworks were spelled ones of course, ordered specially for the Fourth of July from Alivan's Light Spectacular Shop. The earth mage had simply been making sure none of them had been tampered with by overeager teenagers or the twins, who were known for touching things they were forbidden to.

Severus glanced up at the older man's approach, Leo was dressed for the occasion  
as well in white chinos, a blue dress shirt and a flag tie. "Nice day out, isn't it?" his father- in-law asked.

"Very. Not too hot or raining," he replied.

Leo seated himself opposite him, summoning a water from the cooler with a wave  
of his hand. Snape noted that despite the Italians reputation for drinkers of wine, Leo rarely imbibed. "I figured I'd better relax while I still can, because before you know it I'll be grilling burgers or ribs."

Snape nodded. "And I'll be frying up chicken, most likely."

"That's right, I heard about your fried chicken. Is it as good as your daughter  
claims?"

"Try it and find out," he invited.

"I'll do that. If you'll try one of my specialties in return. My bruschetta burger."  
"What's that?"

"Oh, just something I made up. It's a hamburger with garlic powder, salt, and pepper  
mixed in it, then topped with fresh mozzarella, bruschetta and a light pesto spread. I like to put it on a toasted onion roll."

"That sounds good. Are the tomatoes from your garden?"

"Of course. All our vegetables are," Leo said proudly. As an earth mage, he kept  
a superb garden, and was justifiably proud of his produce from it. When the Amarottis  
cooked, they only used the fresh herbs and vegetables grown in Leo's garden, which was why so many of their dishes tasted incredible.

The older wizard stretched, trying to loosen his back muscles, which grew stiffer  
with every year that passed. He winced as the muscles twinged, protesting the movement. "Damn! Every time I do a bit more than I should, my back goes into spasms," he grumbled.

"Pulled a muscle?" Severus asked.

"No, this is just old age," Leo said ruefully.

"Have you tried rubbing on an oil of lavender, lemon grass, and eucalyptus?" he  
asked. "That might help relieve the heat and soreness in those muscles."

Leo shook his head. "You're almost as good a healer as my wife or Arista, Sev."  
The Potions Master raised an eyebrow. "Not by a long shot, Leo. I know standard  
healing remedies, true, but I can't heal the way Arista can. She inherited that from your side  
of the family."

"From her grandmother. Although I think her gift is even stronger than Ari's. Even  
Ari never brought a cat back from the dead before."

"She only did that once. When her magic first manifested. After I explained to her  
that it was forbidden, she's never tried it again."

"Still, even once is incredible. The Amarottis are known for earth magic, like mine,  
a degree of empathy, like my brother Andrea, and some skill at battle magic. Ari's family,  
the Canterinos, are known for Healing and animal magics, but I don't think they've  
manifested such a strong Healing talent in generations."

"It's almost instinctive with her," Severus said. "She told me once that she can see  
what's wrong and when she releases her talent, she just knows how to fix it. She doesn't  
even have to cast a specific spell, the way most Healers do. All she does is touch them. Our  
resident medical witch, Poppy Pomfrey, was so impressed with her she made Arista her  
unofficial apprentice medical assistant. Arista's been studying with her on advanced  
medical surgery techniques, magic most kids her age wouldn't be able to handle until they  
were a sixth or seventh year student."

Leo's eyes widened. "She's got that much power, Severus?"

"Not just power, Poppy says her sense of control is what really impresses her. Most  
students can learn how to cast healing spells, but they don't always work because the student  
doesn't know how to fine tune the spell and achieve precise results. Arista, she told me last  
month, can fine tune her spells like a master. Poppy says that by the time she graduates, she  
wouldn't be surprised if Arista could heal just about anything that could go wrong with the  
human body."

"You should be real proud of her, Sev. I know Amelia would be, if she were here.  
She had some healing talent too, but she never developed it much after she went to the  
Academy."

"I know. She told me once that she used to help heal some wild animals that came  
around when she was a girl. But she said she felt she was needed more as a Dark Hunter,  
and that was what she became."

"I didn't agree with her choice of career. I never wanted that kind of life for her, all  
that risk, all the danger. We argued something fierce over it, but she refused to change her  
mind. This is where I'm needed, and how I can best serve my country, she said to me the  
last time she came home, right after that damn Slade case. I wanted her to resign, she was  
a wreck after that bastard died. But she wouldn't hear of it. I told her she was a fool, and  
she said better a fool than a coward. When she left, we still weren't speaking to each other."  
He shook his head sadly. "I regretted that stupid argument ever since. Eventually, we sort  
of apologized to each other, but I never really got the chance to tell her how sorry I was  
before she went after Nightshade. And then it was too late."

"You shouldn't blame yourself. Amelia forgave you, she was never one to hold  
grudges. Unlike me," Snape said with a wry twist to his mouth.

"You sure you're not Italian, Sev? That's one of our prime traits you know, the  
vendetta," Leo said.

"I'm sure. At least I think so," he amended. "I know my father was pure English,  
born and bred. My mother was raised in England, but I don't know if her family was  
originally from there."

"So there could be some Italian ancestry in you then. Which would explain your  
dark coloring and your temper and your name. It's Latin, you know."

"I know. It might be possible. Maybe that's why I feel so comfortable around all of  
you Amarottis," Severus speculated.

"Could be," Leo agreed, his eyes twinkling. "You're not at all what I expected."

"Oh? In what way?"

"When Amelia wrote me and told me she'd fallen in love with some British  
professor, I pictured some prim and proper English fop, you know with glasses and a tweed  
suit and a goatee. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how Amy could fall for somebody  
like that. Then I met you, and you blew my theory all to hell."

"Would you rather I was like that other professor?" Snape asked curiously.

"God, no! Prissy academic men bore me to tears. You, at least I can talk to. You tell  
it like it is."

"Most people consider that a bad trait. I've been accused of being too blunt."

"That's only 'cause most people don't like to see things the way they really are." Leo  
said.

Before Severus could reply to that statement, he felt a light touch on his knee. He  
thought it was Comfrey, or maybe one of the other cats, jumping onto his lap. But when he  
looked down he saw a little girl, a curly strawberry blond moppet around three years old,  
staring up at him.

She was dressed in a denim jumper with a red shirt underneath, and her hair had a  
red, white, and blue ribbon in it. Her little sneakers were white with blue sparkles on them  
and she had the biggest pair of blue eyes Severus had ever seen. She was an adorable child,  
one that looked as innocent as Boticelli angel, but Severus noted an imp of mischief lurking  
in her eyes.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi! I'm Marietta," she said, then proceeded to climb right into his lap, as if it was  
the most natural thing in the world.

Severus was too startled to say anything at first, having almost no experience with  
children this age, especially ones who so casually sat down on strangers knees without so  
much as blinking an eye.

"My youngest grandchild," Leo said. "My daughter Sandy's little girl. Marietta, this  
is your Uncle Sev. Your Aunt Amelia's husband."

"The one who's in heaven?" she asked.

"Yes," her grandfather said.

She looked at Severus. "Can you still be married to someone who's in heaven?"

"Yes," he answered. "Once you're married to someone, you're married forever."

"Unless you get a divorce. Like my friend Callie." Marietta stated. "Her mom and  
dad don't live together, her dad lives in Oregon. Where's Oregon, Grandpa?"

"All the way on the other side of the country, near California."

"Oh. Guess that's why she never sees him." Marietta said matter-of-factly. Then she  
turned to Severus and asked, "Do you live in Oregon too, Uncle Sev? Cause I've never seen  
you before."

"No. I live in England, across the ocean, and this is the first time I'm visiting here."

"Oh. Is that farther away than Oregon?"

"It is. How old are you?"

"Three and a half," she said proudly. "My dad says I'm too smart for my own good."

Severus chuckled. "I can see why."

"Can you do magic like my mom and dad? And do you have any kids?"

"Yes to both questions. I have a daughter named Arista."

"Is she as old as I am?"

"Older. She's fourteen."

"Oh." Marietta's face fell. "Why doesn't anybody have any kids _my_ age?" she  
demanded in aggrieved tones. "Everyone's always too old. I never have anyone to play  
with."

To his surprise, Snape found himself feeling a bit sorry for the child. He too had  
never had anyone to play with at her age. He cast about for something to make her feel  
better, and spied the can of sugar pops on the table. Candy usually made children happy, he  
reasoned. "Here. Why don't you have a sugar pop?" he handed her one that was colored  
with blue sugar, it resembled a blue icicle.

Her eyes lit up. "Thanks!" she said, and took the candy and immediately started  
sucking on it. "They're my favorite."

She leaned back against his shoulder, happily sucking on her candy. At first, he felt  
a bit awkward, having the child on his lap, but Leo didn't seem to find it unusual, and  
gradually he relaxed, cradling her loosely with his left arm.

"When do you start school again, Sev?" Leo asked.

"The fall term begins on September 2nd this year," he answered. "But I usually go  
back a little before then, so I can prepare my classroom."

Marietta pulled the sugar pop out of her mouth. "You're still going to school, Uncle  
Sev? But you're a grown-up!"

"He's not a student, Marietta," Leo laughed. "He's a teacher."

"Really? Neat! Do you teach preschool?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at that. _Good God! That'd be even worse than teaching at  
Hogwarts._ "Um, no. I teach Potions to young wizards and witches at a school called  
Hogwarts. My students are eleven when they start there."

"Oh. Hogwarts," she repeated, grinning. "That's a funny name. Is that school in  
England?"

"No, it's actually in Scotland, which is right next to England," Severus explained,  
wondering how much of this she was going to remember. Probably not much of it. Kids her age usually had short attention spans.

"Is it nice there? Do you get to play games there?"

"You can play Quidditch if you want. But mostly you're there to learn magic."

"Oh. Someday I'm going to learn magic too. Maybe you'll teach me."

He smiled down at her. "I would, if you lived in England."

"Maybe I'll move there," she said.

"You wouldn't want to do that," he said quickly. "You'd miss your family."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to leave your old grandpa all alone, now would you,  
Marietta?" Leo put in.

She considered for a moment. "No. Then you'd be sad. I'd better stay here then."  
She frowned, her little forehead creasing. "But maybe you could move here, Uncle Sev!"

"I don't think so, Marietta." He said quietly. "My home is in England, and so is my  
job."

"But how will you teach me magic if you're all the way over there?" she pouted.

"He can't, snippet," Leo explained patiently. "But you'll have plenty of tutors here  
in America when it comes time for you to study magic. All of us wizards and magicians will teach you, child."

Marietta scowled. "But I don't want you to teach me. I want Uncle Sev to teach me  
magic."

Snape found his mouth twitching into a reluctant grin at the child's statement._ Now  
that's a first. A kid actually begging for me to teach them. Usually they can't wait to get  
out of my classroom._ "If I come back here for a visit, I can teach you then," he told her.

"Okay. Can you cast a lot of spells?"

"I would say so."

"Can you show me one? Please?"

Severus sighed. The little girl's endless requests were starting to wear on him.  
Didn't she ever get tired of asking questions? "All right." He drew out his wand. Then he twirled it in a circle and said, "_Prismari_!"

Colored lights shot out of the wand and formed sparkling shapes in the air at his  
direction. He drew a diamond, a triangle, a circle, and even some animals.

Marietta was enthralled. She clapped her hands and laughed. "Pretty! I like this  
spell, Uncle Sev!"

He drew a three-dimensional box, one that glowed with rainbowed light. All of the  
outlines lasted only a few seconds before they faded, but they were pretty while they lasted.  
He had entertained himself for hours when he was a child with that spell, creating imaginary  
places and animals.

He quickly sketched a dragon in the air, one that appeared to blow imaginary flames  
at Marietta's sugar pop. The little girl squealed in delight. "Draw your school. I want to see  
it."

He etched a castle in the air. "That's Hogwarts."

"It's a castle! Wow!"

Next he drew a shield with a serpent inside it, making the background of the shield  
green and the serpent a rainbow of colors. "That's the symbol of Slytherin House. I'm the Head of the students there."

He quickly drew the symbols for the other three Houses—a lion for Gryffindor, a  
badger for Hufflepuff, and an eagle for Ravenclaw, naming each of the Houses as he did so. The spell was not going to last much longer, so as a flourish, he wrote his name.

"What's that word?" Marietta asked. "It starts with an S."

"My name. Severus Snape." The letters hung in the air for a few more seconds  
before vanishing.

"It's got a lot of S's in it," she observed sagely. "Not like my name."

The colored lights at the tip of his wand died as the spell faded. He laid his wand  
down on the table and picked up his glass of honey wine.

"Can you teach me that spell, Uncle Sev?"

"When you're older. You're too little now."  
"That's what everyone says. But I could do it. I was watching you." Before he could  
stop her she had picked up his wand.

"Marietta!" he snapped, grabbing her hand. "Give me that!" She dropped the wand  
and he caught it. "You must never touch a wizard's wand without asking first," he scolded.  
"It's not a toy. It's a dangerous magical object," he stressed. She wouldn't have been able  
to use it, but he thought it best to discourage any attempts to play with it right away. Better  
safe than sorry.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "But all you did was make the pretty lights come out  
of it. That's not dangerous."

"My wand can do much more than that, young lady. It's not for children to play  
with."

"But I just wanted to hold it."

"Marietta, you listen to your Uncle Sev," Leo interjected, frowning at his  
granddaughter sternly. "If he says to leave his wand alone, you do it. No arguments."

"But—"

"No buts, Marietta DiSarno. You're to leave that wand alone. That's an order. And  
you know what happens to bad little girls who disobey direct orders, don't you?" Leo asked  
sternly.

She nodded. "They get spanked and sent to bed without supper."

"Right. You want that to happen to you?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. So you keep your hands off that wand, young lady, or else your  
uncle will punish you just the way I said."

_Whoa, Leo, I don't hit children_, he thought in alarm. Then he thought of the mayhem  
a child could cause with an unguarded magic wand. Most wands wouldn't work well for any  
but the wizard it had been made for, but there had been cases of tragedies occurring with  
young mage-talented children before. Severus quickly put the wand back in his pocket,  
removing the temptation from the child. He would hate to have to punish the little girl that  
way, but he knew that his father-in-law was correct in issuing that ultimatum. A wizard's  
wand was no child's plaything and magic was a serious business, the sooner she learned that  
the better. Harsh as that punishment seemed, he knew it was better than letting the child kill  
someone with a miscast spell.

"Why don't you show your uncle how well you can write your name?" Leo  
suggested.

"Okay." Marietta reached into the front pocket of her jumper and pulled out a folded  
piece of parchment and a fat red crayon. She unfolded the parchment and put it on the table.  
Then she took the crayon in her little hand and began to print Marietta in large letters. She  
had the sugar pop in her other hand, making it difficult to hold the paper still.

"Here. You can hold this for me," she stated, and handed Snape the sugar pop,  
which was sticky from being held in her hand.

He glanced down at the candy in distaste. _What does she think I am, her house elf?_  
He wondered, annoyed. He quickly put the sticky pop down on a napkin, wiping his hand  
off as best he could.

To his dismay, he then noted her little hand had left sticky handprints on his shirt,  
as she had touched it before leaning over to hold the paper still._ Oh, wonderful. Now I look  
like a walking advertisement for a babysitter. Where are her parents, anyway? Shouldn't  
they be the ones minding her? _  
"That ought to keep her busy," Leo winked at him. "Now, can you give me the  
formula for that oil you mentioned? The one that's good for sore muscles? I think it would  
really help my back."

"Do you have a spare piece of parchment and a quill?" he asked.

Leo dug in his pocket, coming up with a crumpled piece of paper and a bent white  
quill. He shook the quill and muttered a charm to fill it up with ink, so he could write down  
the formula Severus dictated to him.

"Ready? You take 1 cup of lavender oil and mix it with 3 teaspoons of lemon grass  
extract. Then you need the juice from about twenty-five eucalyptus leaves. But in order to  
get it you have to extract it."

"How do I do that?" Leo asked, scribbling rapidly.

Before Severus could answer, Marietta announced, "Look! I wrote my name five  
times. See? How's that, Uncle Sev?"

"Wonderful," he said shortly. "Now why don't you go and play with the other kids?"

"They won't let me play with them. I'd rather stay here with you."

He bit back a groan. _Why me?_ Then he had an idea. "You can write your first name,  
but do you know how to write your last name?"

"No."

"Here. I'll show you." He took the crayon from her. "How do you spell her last  
name?" he asked Leo.

"D-I, capital S-A-R-N-O."

Severus wrote it neatly on the other side of the parchment. "There. That's your last  
name. Now you practice that while I talk to your grandfather."

She examined the letters, then took the crayon and began to write, forming each  
letter carefully. _There! That ought to keep her busy for at least another twenty minutes_, the  
professor thought in satisfaction. He then continued to give Leo instructions on how to make  
the oil that soothed muscle aches.

He had almost finished giving the instructions when Marietta interrupted him yet  
again.

"I'm finished, Uncle Sev. Look! I wrote DiSarno seven times. Seven's a magic  
number, you know."

"I know." _And your magpie chatter's starting to give me a seventh degree migraine_,  
he thought with a sigh. Then he examined the paper she thrust in his face.

He raised an eyebrow, for she had actually done quite a good job for her first try.  
The letters were wobbly and too big, but you could read them. For a three-and-a-half year  
old that was pretty amazing.

"Did I do a good job, Uncle Sev?" she peered at him anxiously.

He pretended to frown seriously down at her work. Then he looked up and said, "An  
excellent job, Miss DiSarno."

She beamed at him. "Now I get a happy face, right? Miss Sara at school always gives  
us a happy face if we do a good job." She pointed imperiously down at her paper. "You can  
put one right there, Uncle Sev."

_I don't believe this. Now I'm drawing happy faces on some little kid's assignment.  
It's a damn good thing none of the staff at Hogwarts are here. They'd laugh themselves sick. _  
But he took the crayon and drew a smiley face at the bottom of the paper. "There.  
Now why don't you go and show your mother?" he suggested, hoping she'd take the hint and leave.

"I will," she said, and he heaved a sigh of relief. But then she added. "Later."

Leo chuckled at his expression. "You're not getting rid of her so easily. She's as  
stubborn as a mountain goat when she sets her mind on something. At least she writes her name on the paper now and not on the walls and the furniture. Time was she used to write Marietta all over everything but a piece of parchment."

_Not in MY house she wouldn't_, he thought automatically, shuddering at the mere  
thought of childish handwriting scrawled all over.

"It took us forever to break her of that habit. That's why we make her carry a piece  
of paper around with her all the time."

Snape thanked God he lived in London, so his house was safe from rampaging three- year-olds with red crayons.

Just then a rather frazzled young woman with auburn hair wearing a red, white, and  
blue sundress came running up to them. "Marietta! There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

"Hi, Mom!" Marietta waved at her. "Look what I did. I wrote DiSarno. Uncle Sev  
taught me. He's a really good teacher." She proudly displayed her parchment.

Sandy looked from the paper to her brother-in-law with something akin to shock.  
"She's been here with you the whole time? Normally I can't get her to sit still for more than  
a minute. And here I was thinking she was out wandering the neighborhood. Thank you for  
watching her."

"It wasn't a problem," he found himself saying. _But you can have her back now_, he  
added mentally.

"He drew pictures in the air with his wand, Mom! And they were all sparkly, like  
this!" She picked up her sugar pop and waved it enthusiastically, nearly hitting Snape in the eye.

"Marietta! Watch out, you nearly hit your uncle in the face," Sandy cried. Then her  
eyes narrowed. "And who said you could have a sugar pop, miss?"

Marietta bit her lip, recognizing that tone. Then she said with a devilish grin, "Uncle  
Sev gave it to me."

"I didn't know she wasn't allowed to have one," he began apologetically. _Good one,  
Snape, tricked by a three-year-old. _  
"I guess it really doesn't matter. One more won't spoil her appetite." Sandy said  
resignedly. Then she added with a frown, "But Marietta knows she's not supposed to have  
sweets before dinner, right?"

"I forgot."

"Uh huh. You forget a lot of things you don't like, young lady." She eyed her  
daughter's sticky face and fingers exasperatedly. "Come on, kiddo, you need to wash your  
hands and face before dinner."

"But I want to play with Uncle Sev," Marietta whined.

"Marietta, you've pestered the poor guy enough for one day. He's probably sick of  
the sight of you."

"No, he isn't!" the little girl cried. Then she looked at her uncle. "_Are_ you sick of  
me?"

Snape bit his lip. It was true the child was an annoyance, never letting him have a  
decent conversation, but she wasn't quite the brat he'd expected. Besides, he had the feeling  
she heard those words all too often from nearly everyone. He gazed down at her and he  
couldn't bear to make the hopeful glow in those huge blue eyes die.

"No, but you should listen to your mother and do what she says," he answered  
finally.

"Do I_ have_ to?" she pouted.

"You do," he said firmly. "Go on, Marietta."

She considered for a moment. Then she gave in at his uncompromising stare.  
"Okay. I'll go wash my hands. _Then_ can I come back and see you?"

"Uh . . ." he looked at Sandy helplessly.

"After dinner," she said quickly, coming to his rescue. "Now go inside and let Nana  
wash your hands and face, imp."

Marietta scrambled off his lap, still clutching the paper, the crayon, and the sugar  
pop. "I'm coming, Nana!" she yelled, racing across the lawn and up the stairs into the  
house.

"Sorry about that," Sandy apologized. "I'd have come and rescued you sooner if I'd  
known she was over here. Although, you're remarkably good with her, you know that? I've  
never seen her take to a strange adult that way before."

_It shocked the hell out of me too_, he thought, but didn't say aloud. "She's very bright  
for her age. And inquisitive."

"Yeah, she's too smart for her own good."

"She reminds me a little of myself at that age," he admitted softly, realizing suddenly  
that it was true. _Until I learned that asking a question at the wrong time got me slapped into  
next week by my drunken father_, he recalled darkly.

"Really? Then you were a holy terror too?" Sandy inquired mischievously.

"Probably. Weren't we all at that age?" he asked wryly.

"Well, I don't think I was . . ."

"You most certainly were, Sandra Diane, so don't try and act all innocent," her father  
broke in. "All of you were and you've got kids just like you."

"Hey, I never drew on all the walls in red crayon!" his daughter objected.

"No, you used green ink instead," Leo declared.

"That was Teri, not me."

"No, Teri was the one who picked all my flowers and glued them all over the chairs  
for the fairy tea party. And Amelia painted the cat yellow to match." He cast his eyes  
heavenward. "I never knew what new disaster I was going to come home to. It was like  
living with the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

"You're exaggerating, Dad. We weren't that bad."

"No? Ask your mother."

"But Marietta's in a class by herself, God help me."

"She's the Fourth Horseman," Leo said. "Trouble incarnate."

"You can say that again. I'd better go, before she starts causing mayhem in the  
kitchen. Those little hands of hers can move quicker than lightning." She turned to go,  
adding over her shoulder, "Oh, I almost forgot. Mom says it's time for you two to start  
cooking the burgers and the chicken."

"Figured it was," her father sighed. "Tell her we'll be right there." Then he turned  
to Severus and said, "Finish giving me the rest of that formula, otherwise I'll forget about  
it afterwards and be left with a partial recipe."

"What did we get up to?"

"Umm . . . .letting the mixture steep about ten minutes, I think." Leo said, consulting  
the piece of parchment.

After about forty-five minutes, the dinner was ready and everyone came over to eat.  
In addition to Severus's fried chicken and biscuits and gravy, there were also barbecued ribs,  
hot dogs, grilled chicken, sausage, cheeseburgers, and Leo's bruschetta burgers. There were  
green beans and carrots in a butter sauce and salad. Teri had made a pot of spaghetti and Ari  
had made another Amarotti specialty, rosemary-garlic fries. These were French fries  
sprinkled with olive oil, garlic powder, rosemary, pepper, salt, and grated Parmesan cheese.  
They were delicious, and Severus made a mental note to ask for the recipe.

He had just settled down at a table along with Teri and her husband Johnny, Ari and  
Leo, Andrea and his wife Beatrice, and Paul, who was Marietta's father, when he caught  
sight of Sandy coming across the lawn with Marietta in tow. _Oh God, no. Can't I even eat  
dinner in peace? _  
He breathed a sharp sigh of relief when they headed over to another table. He turned  
back to his dinner, sampling Leo's burger first, which was one of the best he'd ever eaten.  
He had just taken three bites of it, when he felt a tap on his arm. He turned his head slowly,  
praying it wasn't who he thought it was.

"Hi, Uncle Sev!" Marietta exclaimed brightly. "I got bored sitting over there, so  
Mom said I could come over here and sit with my dad, but I want to sit next to you instead.  
Okay?"

"Sure," he said, wishing he could tell the little moppet to leave him alone. _This  
could only happen to me. Of all the people here, why did you have to pick me to bother? _He  
moved over with a sigh, and Marietta climbed up next to him. Her plate hovered behind her,  
settling down in front of her, along with a covered cup of juice.

_If I ignore her, maybe she'll get bored and go sit next to her father_, he thought, and  
proceeded to eat his dinner.

Marietta babbled on happily inbetween bites of her chicken leg, apparently not caring  
if he answered her or not. The only time she was quiet was when she was eating her biscuit  
or fries. She showed no signs of growing bored at all.

"I can't wait till dessert. That's when we get to eat the flag cake. It's my favorite."

Severus couldn't wait until dessert either.

He went to pick up his own chicken leg and caught the little minx shoving her green  
beans onto his plate. What the hell? "Marietta, what are you doing?" he hissed in an  
undertone.

"I don't like green beans. They're gross. And Grandpa says it's a sin to waste food.  
So you can eat them instead," she told him calmly.

"Oh, now wait just a minute here," he began irritably. This was really too much.  
"I'm not eating your leftovers, miss. What do you think I am, your dog?"

"But I don't want them. I hate green beans, even though Mom says I should eat  
them."

"Hold it," he said, catching on to her game. "Did your mother say you had to eat  
them, Marietta?" She squirmed under his teacher's eye. "Well?"

"Umm . . .kind of. But I'm not gonna!" she declared with a mutinous scowl. "I hate  
them."

"Have you ever tried them?"

"No. And I won't either, so there!"

_Now what?_ he wondered. He could, of course, appeal to her parents to enforce their  
own rules, but his pride balked at admitting he couldn't handle a three-year-old. He was a  
Hogwarts professor for Godsake. And there had never been a student he couldn't outlast in  
a battle of wills.

He locked gazes with the sulky child. "Eat your vegetables, Marietta," he ordered  
quietly.

"No. And you can't make me." She glared right back at him.

_Want to bet?_ He frowned warningly at her. Then he got an idea. "You know, little  
girls who don't eat their vegetables don't get to eat dessert."

"No fair. I love flag cake."

"Then you'd better eat your vegetables."

"Don't wanna."

"Suit yourself. But don't come crying to me when you're the only one without a  
piece of cake."

"Mom said I only have to eat one," she muttered rebelliously.

"Then eat it."

She glared down at her plate.

"Look, I see the flag cake over there." He pointed to the dessert table which did  
indeed have a large cake sitting there, a pound cake with whipped cream and strawberries  
and blueberries on it in the shape of a flag. "Better hurry up and eat that green bean before  
it's all gone."

"You're mean!" she cried, her lower lip sticking out. "Mean, mean, mean!"

_That's right, kid. I'm the meanest professor at Hogwarts, just ask half my students.  
Now shut up and eat the damn green bean_, he thought exasperatedly. He folded his arms  
and gave her one of his do-it-or-else stares. She lasted longer than most of his students,  
dropping her eyes after a good three minutes. "Miss DiSarno, are you going to sit there all  
night staring at that green bean or are you going to eat it?" he said in a dangerously soft tone.

"Fine!" she cried. "I'll eat it." She picked it up, staring at it like it was a Bertie Botts  
vomit flavored bean.

"Marietta," was all he said.

She ate it. Then she glared at him.

"Was that so bad?"

"No. But you're still mean, Uncle Sev."

"I know." He shrugged. Then he waited for her to get up and run off to her mother,  
complaining of how her mean uncle had made her eat vegetables.

Only she didn't. Instead, she said, "But you were nice to me before, so I'll forgive  
you."

He gaped at her. "Oh, you will, huh?" It seemed he was stuck with her. Then his  
mouth curved in a reluctant grin. _She lost that round, but she's got spunk, I'll give her that.  
Like her Aunt Amelia. _  
"Can I have some flag cake now?"

He looked over at her plate. She had eaten mostly everything on it. "Yes." He  
vanished their plates into the kitchen. Then he pointed his wand at the pieces of cake that  
were already cut on plates. "Accio!"

A piece sailed over to him and he handed it to her with a fork. "Yum!" she said, and  
began to devour it.

_You're something else, kid. I make you eat vegetables and instead of hating my guts,  
you like me for it. How's that for irony? _Then he went and got his own piece of flag cake,  
along with a cup of coffee.

She ran off to play with the dogs eventually, allowing him a few hours with adult  
company, but as soon as it grew dark and the fireworks were about to start, she reappeared,  
wrapping her arms about his leg and grinning up at him. "Uncle Sev! Uncle Sev!"

"What is it, imp?"

"I can't see anything! Pick me up, please!"

The fireworks were now being shot off, and everyone was gathered about the lawn,  
watching as Paul and Joe, who was Ari's brother, set them off. They soared into the sky,  
exploding in great colorful streaks of stars and moons and planets that revolved about each  
other. The noise made him wince, for he had always had extra-sensitive hearing.

Marietta tugged again on his leg. "Uncle Sev! I can't SEE!"

"All right, young lady!" he snapped, and picked her up and set her on his shoulder.  
She wrapped an arm about his neck, nearly strangling him. "Not so tight," he said. "Relax,  
I won't drop you." He kept a firm hold of her legs.

"Wow! I can see everything from up here!" Marietta squealed. "I wish I was tall like  
you."

"Give yourself a few years," he said. "Now hush and watch the fireworks."

She obeyed, much to his relief, sitting still on his shoulder, her gaze turned towards  
the sky, which was beautifully clear and sprinkled with stars.

The fireworks were excellent, living up to Alivan's reputation. There were  
Screeching Banshees, Fire Dragons—which spread gauzy wings and swooped over the lawn  
breathing red and green sparkles, Fairies—little twinkling lights with miniature butterfly  
wings, American Dream—which burst into a flag and the Statue of Liberty, where the flag  
actually appeared to wave and Lady Liberty's torch to burn, and the best one, Knight  
Joust—which required the two wizards to light off two fireworks simultaneously. The  
firework then exploded into a knight, each mounted with a lance, one colored red and the  
other blue. The knights charged across the sky at each other with a sound like thunder and  
came together in the middle of the lawn overhead, bursting into great puffs of smoke and  
red, green, and white shooting stars. All the kids screamed and cheered at that one, saying it was the best they'd ever seen. Marietta was laughing in delight, clapping her hands, and crying, "More! More! Do it again!"

_I can't believe she's not afraid of all the noise and the light. Most kids her age  
would be petrified_. Snape thought, recalling a night when he'd been taking a walk near  
Westminster Palace and they'd been lighting off fireworks for the queen's birthday. One  
little boy had screamed hysterically even after they were over, and most of the parents with  
toddlers had to take their children away after the first few minutes, for they were sobbing  
and howling in terror.

Not Marietta. "Did you see the knights fight, Uncle Sev? Wasn't it cool, the way  
they crashed and blew up? Bam!" She scanned the sky for more fireworks. "What are they  
gonna have next?"

"I think that's it for tonight, Marietta." He could see Joe beginning to gather up the  
spent firework casings with a neaten-up spell. "But it was fun while it lasted."

The little girl looked disappointed. "But I wanted to see some more."

"You will. Next Fourth of July," he said, and took her off his shoulder. She clung  
to him, and he held her against his chest. He felt oddly protective of her, the way he  
sometimes did of Arista, and he thought wistfully, this is what could have been, all those  
years ago, with my own little girl. Damn you, Nightshade, for taking those years from me,  
from all of us. He smiled down at the curly head resting on his shoulder, and thought that  
perhaps Marietta was a blessing in disguise. She had allowed him to get a glimpse of what  
it was like to be a father to a small child, one who trusted him to protect her implicitly. _Life always gives you second chances, Sev_, he heard Amelia whisper in the back of his head._ You just have to learn how to see them_. He looked tenderly down on his niece and thought, _Is that what you are, little imp? My second chance?_

The contemplative moment was broken then by a man's voice calling, "Marietta!  
Where are you, princess?"

"Daddy! I'm over here, with Uncle Sev!" she shouted, sitting up and waving  
frantically to her father, who was making his way across the lawn.

Paul came up to them, he had curly blond hair and the same blue eyes as his  
daughter. He was a few years younger than Severus and he worked for the Department of  
International Magical Relations. "How's my princess?" he asked, holding out his arms for  
his daughter, who jumped into them. "Did you like the fireworks? You weren't scared, were  
you?"

Severus laughed. "She was laughing through the whole thing. She's not afraid of  
much, is she?"

"No. Well, except for the dark. She won't go to sleep without a night light. But she  
might grow out of it. I did," Paul said.

"The knights were the best, Daddy."

"Yeah, I figured you'd like them. And the Fairies."

"I want to see some more."

"No, we're all done now, sweetheart. Besides, it's time for little girls to get a bath  
and go to bed."

"But I'm not tired!" she argued.

"You will be, trust me. Now be good and say goodnight to your Uncle Sev,  
Marietta."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes!" both men chorused.

She pouted, but in the end she gave in, hugged Severus goodnight and went off with  
her father for the promised bath and bed. "Can I have a bedtime story too?" Snape could  
hear her asking as Paul carried her away.

Freed from his little shadow, Snape returned to the back deck, where Arista and some  
of her older cousins were sitting, talking quietly and looking at the stars. He leaned  
nonchalantly against the side of the house, gazing up into the heavens and enjoying the  
serene beauty of the summer night.

Scout came up the steps and lay down by his feet, gnawing a large sparerib bone. He  
knelt and scratched the dog behind the ears, muttering, "Shameless beggar."

Scout thumped his tail in response, then went back to chewing all the meat off his  
bone.

The younger wizards were having a heated discussion about some kind of potion,  
arguing over ingredients. Snape paid them half an ear, until Mark called, "Hey, Professor,  
isn't it true you can't mix firebird talons with goblin blood?"

Snape walked over to them. "Yes, do that and you're asking to be blown sky high.  
Goblin blood has some of the same chemicals as gunpowder, and any part of a firebird has  
a spark of heat in it. You can't ever mix them."

"Told you so, Dean!" Mark shot a triumphant glance at another boy.

"Then how do you make a Fireproof Potion without killing yourself? I could swear  
my manual said to use goblin blood."

"Impossible." Snape disagreed. "You must have read the text wrong. The formula  
for a Fireproof Potion uses ground firebird talon, dragon blood, salamander scales, melted  
arctic ice, the juice from two aloe vera plants and a sprig of mint for taste."

"Maybe it was dragon blood instead of goblin blood," said Dean.

"I'm positive it was," Severus said. "The dragon's blood, combined with the arctic  
ice, makes a base . . ." he went on to detail the particulars of the potion, explaining how each  
ingredient reacted with the other.

"But dragon blood's illegal here," stated another boy, a skinny blond with glasses.

"Bronze dragon blood's illegal, Avery, they never said you couldn't another kind of  
dragon's blood," Dan pointed out.

"Yeah, but the bronzes don't like us using any kind of dragon's blood in our  
potions," Avery reminded him.

"Well, what they don't know won't bother them, now will it?" snorted another boy.

"Oh yeah, and I'd like to see you tell Fireflash that, Josh," sneered Avery. "You'd  
be dragon chow."

"Bronze dragons don't eat people, stupid! They're vegetarians." Josh replied.

"Shut up, you two!" Mark ordered. "Professor, what can we substitute in place of  
the dragon's blood? Or is that the only thing you can use?"

"No, if you don't have dragon's blood you can use another firebreathing creature's  
blood instead, though dragon's blood is the most effective." Snape told them. "You could  
use chimera blood, fire salamander blood—"

A piercing shriek cut through the rest of what he was about to say, making him reach  
for his wand. "What the bloody hell is that?"

None of the teenagers seemed alarmed, except Arista, who jumped to her feet and  
looked around. "That sounded like a kid screaming."

"It is. That's Marietta the Menace," chuckled Dan knowingly.

"She's probably throwing some kind of fit or something," Josh groaned.

The screaming continued, one long furious howl that made the hairs on the back of  
Snape's neck bristle. "Good God! Why doesn't her mother give her a sleeping charm or a  
potion to calm her down?"

"Doesn't work on her. The little brat's immune to them or something," Mark  
informed him, wincing.

"Last time she screamed like this, it was 'cause she didn't want to go to bed, and the  
neighbors nearly called the police," Avery said.

"No wonder. The kid's got a screech to rival a banshee's," Snape muttered. He had  
never known a child's voice could reach that particular volume before.

"Somebody ought to clock her one. That'd shut her up," muttered Josh.

"She's a little kid, Josh. You don't go around punching out little kids," Arista  
objected.

"I would, if it would get her to shut up. She's a spoiled brat."

Snape winced, for the child's screams were grating on his inner ear. Then the sliding  
glass door opened and a harried looking Sandy came out. "Severus? Could you come here  
for a minute?"

"What's the matter with her, Sandy? You can hear her in Scotland, probably."

"I know. That's why I called you. See, it's **you **she's screaming for, Sev."

"_Me_?"

"Uh-huh. Paul was going to tell her a story and she decided she didn't want him to.  
She wanted you instead. We told her no, that she could have one of us and that was it. Then  
she started screaming and now she won't stop. I'm tempted to slap her one."

"No. Let me see if I can calm her down," he said quickly. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs. This way."

He quickly followed Sandy through the kitchen and up the stairs. Marietta was still  
howling, but inbetween the sobs he could now make out words. "I . . .W-WANT. . . UNCLE  
SEV! . . .YOU . . .GO . . .AWAY!"

He opened the door to the guest bedroom, finding Paul standing to one side of the  
bed, looking utterly bewildered and more than a little frustrated. Marietta was sitting on the  
floor, sobbing hysterically, the front of her pink pajamas soaked with what looked like  
water, since a blue cup lay tilted on its side next to the bed.

"What's all this, young lady?" Snape demanded, stepping into the room. "Why  
aren't you in bed asleep?"

The little girl gasped, tears streaming down her face, which was beet red from  
screaming. She got to her feet, her little chest still heaving with sobs, and threw herself at  
him.

He caught her in his arms, and her little arms wound about his neck, clinging to him  
like a limpet. "Uncle Sev!" she sobbed. "I-I . . .wanted you to tell me a story, but nobody  
listened to me . . .so I h-had to call you my own self!" She buried her head in his shoulder,  
and tears dampened his shirt.

"Marietta, shh. I'm right here." He held her close, patting her back awkwardly. "All  
this fuss over a bedtime story? That's why you were shrieking fit to wake the dead?"

She nodded.

"Why couldn't your dad tell you one?" he queried softly, he could feel her shivering  
as she tried to stop crying.

"Didn't want him to! I wanted you!" she said, sniffling.

He sensed that he couldn't reason with her now, and so he went and sat with her on  
the bed. Paul arched a quizzical brow at him, wanting to know if he ought to stay there.  
Snape shook his head and gestured for him to leave, the sight of her father might set her off  
again, and the last thing he needed to deal with was more hysterics. Paul departed, though  
he and Sandy stayed in the hallway, peering around the doorframe, to see how the professor  
handled their rebellious child.

For long moments, Severus did nothing save hold her, rubbing her back soothingly,  
until she had ceased sobbing. Then he sat her up on his knee and snapped his fingers. A  
handkerchief appeared in his hand, and he gently wiped her face with it. He held it to her  
nose. "Blow. Good girl." She coughed, sniffling. "Again." Then he set the handkerchief  
aside and looked at her. "What you did tonight was bad, young lady. There's no need for  
you to throw a fit like that."

"There was! Nobody listens to me."

He couldn't fault her reasoning there. _Why the blazes didn't they just come and get  
me? _"Screaming and crying isn't a good way to get people to listen to you. Next time ask  
them nicely, understand? Because I don't tell bedtime stories to little girls who behave like  
spoiled brats."

"I'm not a brat, Uncle Sev."

"No? You sure acted like one tonight."

"Sorry. Can I have a story now? Please?"

"First, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"I want you to promise me that after this story you'll go straight to bed. No  
arguments, young lady. Can you do that? Because if not, you'll go to bed right now."

"I promise," she said solemnly. "_Now_ will you tell me a story?"

He thought frantically for a moment. He didn't know any bedtime stories a little girl  
would like. He glanced helplessly around the room. On the wall across from the bed hung  
a picture of a frog on a lily pad. A frog . . .wasn't there a fable about a frog and a princess?  
_Come on, Snape, think! Grimm's Fairytales, you read them years ago, but you still  
remember them, you've got one of the best memories in the school_. He closed his eyes,  
summoning the big illustrated book in his mind, recalling his mother's voice reading to him  
from it._ And this is the story of The Frog Prince_. He opened his eyes and smiled  
triumphantly. _Ah ha! I knew I'd remember it. The Frog Prince. It's perfect. _He cleared his throat. "All right, Marietta. This is the story of The Frog Prince."

"How can a frog be a prince?"

"Listen and you'll find out. Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there lived  
a beautiful princess."

"What was her name?"

"Maria. Stop interrupting me," he ordered sternly. "But though Maria was beautiful,  
she was also a dreadful spoiled brat. She got whatever she wanted, which is never a good  
thing. She liked to play with a golden ball down by an old well near her home. She would  
throw it up in the air and catch it, she liked the way it sparkled. Until one day she tossed the  
ball and tripped over a rock. The ball fell from her hand into the well . . ."

He went on to tell her how there was a frog in the well who offered to rescue the  
princess's ball if she would promise to be his friend and treat him nicely, letting him eat  
from her plate, play with him, and sleep in her bed. Maria promised, but later tried to go  
back on her word, but her father told her she had to keep her promise, because a promise  
once made, should never be broken.

Marietta remained still as a mouse, listening intently to every word he said. He had  
never had a more attentive audience. He had expected her to fall asleep halfway through it,  
for her eyes were beginning to droop, but she stubbornly remained awake to the end, where  
the frog was taken to the ball and asked Maria to kiss him.

"Yuck! She had to kiss a frog?" Marietta wrinkled her nose.

"Yes. Because she promised, and once you promise something, you should always  
keep your word," he stressed. "Kiss me, Maria, the frog said and even though she hated to  
do it, she had to obey him. So she kissed the top of the frog's head. And as soon as she did,  
the frog transformed into a handsome prince. He'd been enspelled by a wicked necromancer  
to remain a frog forever unless he could find a princess willing to kiss him in return for a  
favor, one who understood the value of keeping a promise, even if it was to a frog."

"Did she marry him?"

"Yes, and they lived happily ever after."

"What happened to the wicked necromancer? Did they capture her and throw her in  
Inferno?"

"Yes, they did. And now, it's time for you to go to bed."

"But Uncle Sev, can't I have another story?"

"Marietta, what did you promise me?" he asked sternly.

"That I would go to bed after you told me a story," she said reluctantly.

"And will you keep that promise, like Princess Maria kept hers? Or are you nothing  
but a liar, like the wicked necromancer?"

"I'll keep my promise. I want to be a princess like Maria."

"Very well then," he rose and put her in bed, tucking the covers under her chin.  
"Close your eyes, Princess Marietta."

"Okay, Uncle Sev." She yawned. Then her arms came round his neck and she kissed  
him. "Good night."

"Good night, little imp," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead.

He turned to leave.

"Uncle Sev?"

"What is it, Marietta?" he sighed.

"Don't turn the light off. I don't like the dark."

"I won't," he promised. "Now close your eyes and go to sleep."

She obeyed. When he glanced over at her again, she was fast asleep.

He left the room on cat's feet, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Is she asleep?" Paul asked him.

He nodded. "She's worn out."

"I can't believe you got her to go to sleep so easily. She always gives me and Sandy  
a hard time."

"Don't let her. Make her promise you to go to bed and then do what she promised.  
The reason she didn't argue with me was because I gave her no choice. I learned a long time  
ago that you need to give children consequences for their actions, and stick by what you say.  
Say what you mean and then do it. All the time. It works like magic."

Paul smiled at him. "Thanks. I'll remember that. You must have gone through this  
before, with your own daughter, right? That's why you're so good with Marietta.  
Experience."

Snape did not bother to answer. _You'd never believe me if I told you the truth. I  
never had a chance to go through this with my own child. What I did tonight was by pure  
instinct, Paul. Well, that and fourteen years of dealing with obnoxious brats. Guess all that  
aggravation was good for something, after all. _  
He made his way back downstairs, wondering what Dumbledore would have thought  
if he could have seen him then, Hogwarts most feared potions professor, telling a bedtime  
story to a three-year-old. He had a feeling that the Headmaster wouldn't have been a bit  
surprised, for like Amelia, Dumbledore knew how to look behind the stern façade of the  
strict professor and see the man beneath.


	7. Surprises at the Magehound Exhibition

﻿**Surprises at the Magehound Exhibition**

July 5th dawned clear and fair, and Severus awoke feeling refreshed from his sleep.  
Funny, he couldn't remember sleeping so deeply since Amelia had died. Especially not since the Dark Mark on his arm had returned, heralding the coming of his old enemy. He rubbed the spot where the mark was, it had faded again, it was not visible unless Voldemort was using it to call his Death Eaters together. Though Snape was no longer one of them, he could still feel it when Voldemort summoned one of his followers.

It was not burning now, in fact he could barely feel it. Maybe the distance he had  
put between him and Voldemort had something to do with it. Then he shrugged and  
resolved not to think about it for now. Time enough for that later, when he returned to  
Britain and went back to his work for the Order.

He dressed quickly and went downstairs, it was around eight in the morning, and  
from what he could smell, someone was already awake and cooking breakfast. He entered  
the kitchen to find Ari, his mother-in-law, at the stove, frying bacon and making pancakes.

"Good morning, Severus," she greeted, smiling. "I see you're another early riser, like  
me and Leo, who's out watering the garden. Would you like tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please," he said, and rose to fetch himself a cup from the cabinet above the  
sink.

Ari put the water on to boil, then began fixing him a plate of bacon and pancakes.  
"The syrup and butter is on the table," she said, handing him the plate.

He thanked her and went to sit down. Immediately, all three dogs and Comfrey came  
over to his chair, staring at him with pleading eyes. "No begging," he hissed to his dog, who  
whimpered, but then lay down next to his chair. He knew, as did the cat, that he would get  
the leftovers when Snape was done eating.

Rowdy and Ace, tired of waiting for food, wandered back to Ari and sat near her,  
giving her imploring stares with their huge beagle eyes. "Now you two stop that!" she  
scolded her dogs gently. "Before Severus thinks that I don't feed you."

"In _this_ house?" he laughed. "Not even the mice starve, if there were any around,  
that is."

"A family of them lives under the shed," Ari said, flipping some more pancakes onto  
a plate. "But they've promised me they won't come into the house."

"You can speak with animals as well as heal them?"

She nodded. "The Amarotti women often display unusual magical abilities. My  
little extra talent is the ability to understand animals. It makes Healing them ten times  
easier. Amelia's gift, as you know, was empathy. Teri can find lost items. And Sandy can  
see invisible objects and people. Which is why she works for the Bureau of Magical  
Artifacts as a fraud detector."

Snape raised an eyebrow at that. "In Britain, you'd be counted as a powerful  
wizarding house, an old pureblood family."

"Here, we don't really pay much attention to that. It matters more what you do with  
your life than how much power you have, or who your ancestors are. Several of us have  
intermarried with Muggles, which I know wouldn't be the case with purebloods over in  
Britain."

"True. Most pureblood families think they're superior to Muggles because they can  
do magic."

Ari rolled her eyes. "Magic is not the answer to everything. It can do great harm as  
well as great good, like anything else. Though I'm sure you know that already, Sev. I don't  
mean to lecture you like one of my apprentices."

"No offense taken, Ari." The teapot whistled, and he rose to pour himself some tea.  
As he returned to the table, he glanced out of the sliding glass door, and saw that the sun was  
shining brightly. "Nice weather for the magehound exhibition today."

"Oh, are you going to that? I was wondering if you might, it's such a good dog show.  
It's held once a year in Manhattan, and I used to see it regularly, before I had kids and  
grandkids, that is."

"Yes, Arista begged me to go last night, after I'd put Marietta to bed. She wants to  
see the different ways in which you can teach a magehound to follow a scent. Even though  
Scout is already trained, she said she needs to know why and how he does what he does."

"She's a smart girl, Sev. The magehound exhibitions are a lot of fun, both for those  
competing and those watching. You can learn a lot from them. The magehound is a very  
versatile dog, you know. They never stop learning. They're probably the only dog in the  
world that the old saying you can't teach an old dog new tricks doesn't apply to."

"You seem to know an awful lot about them yourself. Maybe we could just skip the  
show and let you teach us," Snape suggested wryly.

"Oh, go on with you, Sev!" Ari blushed, embarrassed. "I'm no expert. That I leave  
to those who breed them and the Hunters who train them to be their partners. Your dog was  
once a Hunter's partner, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he worked with the New York force for twelve years before he was retired.  
My friend Colin Flynn gave him to me as a Christmas present. Fireflash told me that before  
he was retired, Scout earned himself quite a reputation on the force. Tracked some dark  
mage across the Rockies or something."

Ari's mouth fell open. "He's _that_ Scout? Oh, Sev, that dog is famous throughout the  
country. He's practically a household legend in the wizarding community. And to think,  
he's here in my kitchen, begging for table scraps."

Scout, upon hearing his name, rose and padded over to Ari, leaning his head against  
her leg so she could scratch his ears. The little magician rubbed the dog's ears fondly.  
"You're a good dog, aren't you, Scout? Got the best nose of any magehound in the East, or  
maybe the whole country." Then she tossed the dog a piece of bacon.

Rowdy, jealous of the attention Scout was getting from his mistress, came over and  
shoved his head beneath Ari's hand until she petted him and gave him bacon too.

Not to be outdone, Ace went over to Snape and promptly offered up a paw. The  
professor eyed the beagle resignedly, then took a piece of bacon and gave it to him. "These  
dogs have got begging down to an art form."

"Well, that's beagles for you. They love to eat, just like us Italians."

"Where did you get them? Are they brothers?"

"No, but they might as well be. I found Rowdy wandering about the street one day,  
cold and shivering. So I brought him home, not intending to keep him, and the next thing  
I knew he was staying forever. Ace there I rescued from an abusive home. They were  
beating him and starving him." Ari's eyes flashed.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Were they Muggles or wizards?"

"Doesn't make much difference. They won't be doing it again. I put a hex on them  
that makes animals avoid them like the plague. After I reported them to the SPCA for cruelty  
and abuse. They were given a hefty fine, among other things."

Snape stroked Ace's head, and the beagle sighed and put his muzzle on the Potion  
Master's knee. "Poor fellow, you had a rough life before you came here, huh? Like my first  
dog, Maverick." He then proceeded to tell Ari the story of the stray dog he and Amelia had  
rescued from three delinquent wizard kids that were torturing him. "He was the first pet I  
ever had, and one of the worst scamps for getting into trouble I ever knew."

"But you loved him anyway. Like any father does his son."

Severus raised an eyebrow at her words. "That's a strange way of putting it, but . .  
. yes, I guess you could say that. He certainly gave me as much grief as any teenage boy  
would have. But for all of that, I wouldn't have traded him for anything. When he died, I  
felt like I'd lost a family member. I made a memorial for him and everything. And when I'd  
buried him, I sat there for the longest time, and I cried. I never in a thousand years ever  
thought I'd shed a tear over the blasted mutt."

"I know exactly what you mean. The first dog I had, that was mine and not a family  
pet, was a feisty rat terrier named Jerry. He was a devil, always digging up the garden,  
knocked over every house plant I owned, and chased the mailman down the street every  
chance he got. But he loved me with every drop of his fierce little heart. He was a rascal,  
but he was like my son. The day he died, I bawled my eyes out. I was a wreck for months.  
I still have his picture, in a frame in the den. He's been dead for twenty years or more, but  
I still remember him and I miss him. The only thing that ever hurt worse than my animals  
dying was Amelia."

Their eyes met in a shared understanding. "She was the very best thing in my life,  
Ari. If there were any way I could have saved her, I would have. But she never asked me  
for help, she went to face that hag Nightshade alone, and I never knew until it was too late.  
She died calling for me and I never heard her," he whispered, swallowing sharply. He felt  
tears sting his eyes and he blinked hard.

"Ah, Sev. Don't blame yourself. My Amy was as independent as they come, she  
always went her own way. She was like a bronze dragon, she soared high and far above the  
rest of us. You were one of the few she came down to earth for, Sev, and the only one that  
ever captured her heart, I can tell you that. And it's a rare man that can hold onto a bronze  
dragon, son, much less love her like she deserved."

"She changed my life. I was a lonely bitter young man before I met her, but she  
healed me, God only knows how."

"And you healed her too, Severus Snape." Ari said gently, coming over to hug him.  
"Never doubt that. That letter she wrote us, she told us what you did for her, using the  
dreamwalk spell, the way you helped her when no one else could. And for that I shall always  
be grateful."

He leaned his head on her shoulder for a moment, allowing her to comfort him.  
Then he lifted his head and wiped his eyes with his hand. "Damn, I've made you burn your  
bacon."

"You're more important than breakfast, son," she said, patting his cheek.

Then she spoke a word and the burned bacon vanished, to be replaced with fresh  
pieces. She moved back over to the stove, giving him time to regain his composure.

Severus sipped his tea, feeling both embarrassed and grateful to his mother-in-law.  
He couldn't remember the last time he'd needed a shoulder to cry on, or anyone he'd trust  
enough to see him so vulnerable. But his grief over Amelia was one that they both shared  
and that alone was enough to make him let his guard down.

In the past week and a half since he'd arrived at the beach house, the Amarottis were  
becoming more and more like the family he'd never known and less like strangers. Which  
was how it should be, he reflected. He picked up his fork and began eating the rest of his  
breakfast.

Suddenly, the pitter patter of tiny feet could be heard coming down the stairs.

"Uh oh. Here comes trouble," he murmured, half to himself, as Marietta walked into  
the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

"Morning, Nana," she said, running to her grandmother and hugging her.

"Hello, sunshine! You're up bright and early today."

"It was too light out to sleep anymore," the little imp said. Then she took some  
bacon from the platter and began to eat it.

"Go sit down, Marietta, and I'll bring you some pancakes," her grandmother ordered.

"Okay," Marietta agreed, walking around the counter to the table. Her eyes lit up  
when she saw who was sitting there. "Uncle Sev!" she exclaimed, as if she hadn't seen him  
for months. She charged across the kitchen, the bacon falling out of her hands, to be  
gobbled by the waiting dogs, tripped over Comfrey, who was sleeping by the table, and fell  
headlong into Snape's lap.

"Marietta! Take it easy, you want to kill yourself?" He picked her up and set her on  
his knee. "You have an awful lot of energy, miss, for someone who screamed loud enough  
to frighten a boggart last night."

She grinned up at him. "But it worked, didn't it?"

"You're not to do that again. Remember what we talked about last night?"

"Yes. Next time I'm supposed to ask for you to come to me."

"Very good." He set her on the chair next to him.

Ari brought over her pancake and some more bacon, cut into pieces. Marietta began  
to eat, then looked over at Severus and asked, "What are you drinking?"

"Tea."

"Can I have tea too, Nana? I want tea like Uncle Sev."

"You may, if you ask me properly, Marietta."

"Please may I?"

"Yes, with lots of milk." Ari said, and fixed the child a cup of weak tea, half milk  
and lots of sugar.

While Marietta ate, Ari chatted with her son-in-law, asking him how he'd liked their  
Fourth of July celebration. Severus answered that he had liked it fine, which was true.  
"Your cooking was excellent, Ari," he praised. "Especially those rosemary fries. Would  
you mind giving me the recipe?"

Ari's eyes twinkled. "Ah, those fries are always a big hit at parties. I'm always  
happy to share my recipes with a fellow chef, Sev. If you'll do me a favor in return and give  
me your fried chicken recipe. Because I've never tasted better, and I've been a cook a long  
time."

"Thank you. I'll trade you then, my recipe for yours," he agreed.

"Including the secret ingredient?" she queried shrewdly.

"What secret ingredient?" he asked innocently.

"The one your daughter says is in your fried chicken."

Snape smirked, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Shall I tell you a secret, Ari? A  
secret known only to me and Jenna Flynn, who gave me the recipe?"

"I'm all ears," the Animal Healer said, her eyes lighting up like a little girl's.

Severus beckoned her over to him. Then he whispered in her ear, "There is no  
secret ingredient. Jenna and I made that up to keep people from guessing the real secret,  
which is in the preparation, not the ingredients. You see, the trick is to double dip the  
chicken in the breading, but you have to use two types of liquid, first an ice water bath and  
then buttermilk. That way the chicken stays extra moist and the coating extra crunchy.  
That's my "secret ingredient", Ari."

"Severus Snape, you mean all this time we were going crazy trying to figure out what  
spice it was and there really was nothing to figure out?"

"Yes. My honor as a Potions Master on it."

"You wretched scamp!" she laughed, and swatted him gently on the head. "Here I  
was wracking my brains for some obscure spice you used and all the time you were laughing  
up your sleeve at me, mister!"

"Would I do that?" he asked, giving her his most innocent look.

"You'd do whatever you could get away with, young man," she said, shaking a finger  
at him. "Now, where did I put my quill? I promise not to share that little trick with anyone  
else." She gave him a searching glance. "Are you certain that's all there is to it?"

"Absolutely. I swear on Amelia's grave," he said.

"Well, when you put it that way . . ." she shook her head again, then summoned her  
quill from her desk and began to write down her recipe for rosemary-garlic fries. When she  
had finished, she handed the quill to the Potions Master and he borrowed a sheet of  
parchment from her desk and wrote his fried chicken recipe in return, including the secret  
preparation.

Marietta, who had been too busy eating to talk, now joined in on the conversation.  
"Your chicken was the bestest I've ever eaten, Uncle Sev," she said, her eyes bright with  
hero-worship.

"Thank you, Marietta," he said. "I'm glad you liked it." _What in the world did I ever  
do to make her look at me with such hero-worship?_ He wondered. _No child has ever looked  
at me that way before, not even my own daughter. _  
He rose to put his dish in the sink and said in a voice meant only for Ari's ears, "I  
don't understand why that child is so enamored with me, Ari. I didn't do anything  
wonderful with her except show her a simple Prism spell and give her a sugar pop and tell  
her a bedtime story. Yet she looks at me as if I was Merlin himself. Why?"

"You truly don't know?" the older woman asked. "That's easy, Sev. For starters,  
she's an Amarotti, and all of us Amarotti girls know a good man at first sight. You're also  
one of the few people she knows that doesn't regard her as a nuisance, and you listen to her,  
really listen, and she knows that. That means the world to a child her age, Severus. She's  
the youngest in a large family, and though we don't mean to, she often gets overlooked  
simply because she's the youngest."

"Which is why she throws tantrums for the most part," he surmised.

"Yes. It's for attention. And some of it is because she's three and a half and  
accustomed to getting her own way most of the time. Eventually, with patience and  
firmness, she'll grow out of it. All of mine did." Ari smiled. "And the other thing is you're  
not afraid to set limits for her. You of all people know how important that is, and she  
respects you for it, even if she won't admit it."

"That's all?"

"Yes. They sound like such simple things, don't they? Things anyone could do. But  
they're not. And you did them without thinking, which is even rarer, son. My Amy chose  
well when she married you, Sev. Very well indeed."

He blushed at that. "Thank you very much for that, Ari. For the longest time I was  
convinced that I wasn't good enough for her, but she always insisted I was. It took me a very  
long time to believe it."

"And a part of you still has trouble with that," she said knowingly. "Trust me,  
Severus Snape. I know a good man when I see one. I'm an Amarotti, after all. And all of  
us see true when we need to."

He returned to his seat at the table, feeling a sudden surge of pride suffuse him. Ari's  
words had touched a deep chord within him, he respected her for her wisdom, the way he  
might have respected his own mother had she lived. But she had died when he was sixteen  
and like any sixteen year old, he hadn't appreciated her the way he should of, until she was  
gone. In a way, Amelia's mother filled that empty space in his heart left when Eileen Prince  
had died, that part of him that was still an abandoned sixteen year old, desperately seeking  
a mother's approval. He had not even known how much he needed it, until now.

Marietta had eaten most of her breakfast by then, and was now throwing the bits and  
pieces to all of the animals, who had lined up beside her chair like furry sentinels, eagerly  
awaiting her largesse. "One for you, Ace. And here's some for you, Scout. And Rowdy."  
She tossed all the dogs a bit of pancake. Then she turned to Comfrey, who was sitting on  
her other side, along with Snippet, a small black kitten. "And here's some bacon for you,  
Comfrey. And you too, Snippet." The cats accepted her offerings graciously.

The sight made Severus grin. "Give them food and you're their friend for life,  
Marietta."

She smiled back at him. "I like to feed the animals, Uncle Sev. Now who wants to  
lick the plate?" she asked. All three dogs began eagerly licking it, until it was sparkling  
clean. "Good boys!" she praised. The dogs wagged their tails and drooled happily.

She glanced slyly at her uncle and said, "Mom never lets me do that, but I think it's  
fun. They like to clean plates."

"Just so long as you don't put that plate away like that, Marietta. Dog slobber is not  
the way to wash dishes, you know."

"I know. I'm not dumb. But it's funner to wash them this way."

"It's what? _Funner_? I don't think that's a word."

"It is now," she declared. "I'm making it a word."

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You just can't go around making up words whenever you feel like it."

"How come?"

"Because then no one would know what you were saying. You have to use words  
that most people will understand. Otherwise no one will want to talk to you."

"Oh. Okay." Then she added with a smirk, "But it's still funner to let the dogs clean  
my plate."

"You are a stubborn little minx, Miss DiSarno," he chuckled.

"What's a minx, Uncle Sev?"

"It's a little girl who likes to do things her own way."

"That's me!" she said proudly.

"It certainly is." The clock on the wall chimed nine. "I'd better go and wake up  
Arista," he said, rising to his feet. "Otherwise we'll be late for our train."

"What train, Uncle Sev?" Marietta cried. "You're not . . .going away, are you?" She  
looked as if she might burst into tears. "I don't want you to leave!" She jumped off her chair  
and grabbed him around the leg.

"Marietta, I'm not going home," he said, trying to pry her fingers off of him. "I'm  
just going into New York for a few hours with Arista to see a dog show. I'll be back before  
you know it."

She clung stubbornly to him, peering up at him through her thick lashes  
beseechingly. "A dog show? I want to see it too. I love dogs. Can you take me with you,  
Uncle Sev? Please? _Please_? That would be the bestest thing of all."

He stared down at her in dismay. The very last thing he wanted was to shepherd a  
three-year-old around Manhattan, of all places. Even though the magehound exhibition was  
not very far from the train station, in a building called The Octagonal Garden, which was the  
wizard version of Madison Square Garden, Manhattan was not a city he was familiar with.  
Being responsible for Marietta as well as Arista was not something he wanted to  
contemplate.

"Can I come, Uncle Sev? Can I?" she begged.

"Marietta, I . . ." he hesitated for a long moment. _Are you **insane?**_ The rational part  
of his mind howled. _The last thing on earth you need is to drag a toddler around with you,  
especially one like her, who has a penchant for mischief and tantrums. Just tell her no and  
that's final._ He knew that was what he _should_ do. The magehound exhibition was not a  
place for small children. It was a chance for him to spend some time with his daughter, not  
mind someone else's child. He was a professor, not a nanny, for Godsakes.

And yet . . .and yet . . .he could not help but recall Ari's words to him earlier. _She's  
the youngest in a large family, and even though we don't mean to, we often overlook her. _He was willing to bet all of his potions that Ari didn't mean they neglected her, but meant  
that sometimes they didn't include her in some activities, thinking that she was too young.  
She probably didn't get to go many places, either, since both her parents worked. It was only  
a dog show, and they would only be there a few hours. What harm could there be in letting  
her come? Arista wouldn't mind, she had the patience to deal with a small child. _I don't  
believe this. I'm actually considering taking her with us. I must be out of my mind. _"If your parents say you may go with me, you can come," he said at last, dropping  
the burden squarely where it belonged, with Sandy and Paul.

"Yay!" she shrieked, making him wince. Apparently, there was no doubt in her mind  
that she wouldn't be allowed to come.

Actually, Severus doubted they would say no either. What parent of an overactive  
toddler would turn down a few blessed hours of freedom?

Marietta charged up the stairs as quickly as she could. She ran down the hall,  
yelling, "Mom! Dad! Uncle Sev wants to take me to a dog show! Can I go?"

Severus followed more slowly, wondering what the blazes had come over him. _I  
think I need my head examined. By a panel of therapists. There is clearly something very  
wrong with me, only I'll be damned if I know what it is._ He lifted a hand to knock on  
Arista's door.

Twenty-five minutes later, they were all downstairs, ready to leave for the train  
station. Arista did not care that Marietta was coming with them, in fact she thought it would  
be fun for the little girl. Sandy had been a bit skeptical at first, saying, "Are you sure you  
want to take her, Severus? She can be quite a handful at times. She tends to run away from  
you, she wants to see things right away. And she gets cranky when she's tired. You really  
don't have to take her, she can see a dog show some other time."

"Were you planning on taking her?" he asked quickly.

"Um, no. We were planning on hanging out here for the rest of today and then going  
home tonight. But we can take her next year, they always have the magehound exhibition."  
Sandy said.

That decided him. "I told her she could come if you agreed. Do you want her to go  
with me?"

Sandy bit her lip thoughtfully. "If you think you can handle her, then yes, she can  
go."

"Don't worry. After last night, I think I can handle anything she throws at me."

"Famous last words, Sev," Sandy said. Then she called her daughter over to her.  
Kneeling down, she took her child by the shoulders and said firmly, "Marietta Elise DiSarno,  
I want you to promise me that you will behave for your uncle. That means no whining, no  
screaming, and no tantrums. You will do whatever he says, even if you don't like it. He's  
the boss, not you. Am I clear, young lady?"

"Yes, Mom. I promise."

"Severus, you have my permission to punish her if she misbehaves. Including giving  
her a swat or two if she needs it." She looked at her daughter. "So you'd better behave,  
Marietta. Because if I hear any bad reports from your Uncle Sev, you'll go to bed without  
supper when you get back home and that'll be the last time you're allowed anywhere without  
me or your dad. Understand?"

"Yes. I'll be good. I don't want Uncle Sev mad at me."

She hugged her child. "That's my good girl. Have a good time at the dog show."  
She looked again at Severus. "Whatever spell you cast on her, Sev, I wish I learned it. She  
never worries about _me_ being mad at her."

"That's because you're her mother," he said. "It's expected. I'm a novelty, by the  
time we come back from this trip, she'll probably be sick of me."

"I will not!" Marietta said, gazing at him adoringly. "Bye, Mom! Have fun with  
Dad." She grabbed Snape's hand. "C'mon, Uncle Sev and Arista! We have to go _now_. I  
wanna see the dogs."

"We'll see you for supper," Severus called, then allowed himself to be pulled out the  
door.

"Wait!" Sandy called, running after them. "I almost forgot. Here's some money for  
lunch or whatever." She handed him a small drawstring bag. "There's about six Galleons  
in there."

"Sandy, I can afford to buy her lunch," he protested. "This isn't necessary."

"Take it. That way I won't feel guilty about pawning her off on you."

"Sandy, I asked her to come."

"I know, but . . .just take it, please." She closed his hand over the bag.

"Very well." He knew better than to argue with an Amarotti once her mind was made  
up. He tucked the bag inside the inner pocket of his blue jacket, with his wand. Then he  
picked up Marietta and mounted his broomstick. He performed a Sticking Charm on her so  
she wouldn't fall off, then they soared up into the sky, on their way to the Magic Metro,  
which was the train the wizards used to get to New York City.

The Octagonal Garden was a huge building located quite near the theater district of  
the Muggle side of New York City. It was, as it's name suggested, shaped like an octagon,  
and it was where most of the major wizard concerts and other musical entertainments were  
held. It was also the site of the largest indoor Quidditch arena in the world. The outer hub  
of the Garden was filled with all kinds of stores and cafes, almost like a mini Diagon Alley.

It was crammed with people, but luckily there were huge signs all over the place  
directing you to one venue or another, and Severus didn't find it difficult to locate the proper  
set of doors for the magehound exhibition. Upon entering the Garden, he carried Marietta  
through the first section of shops and such, unwilling to risk losing the child in the mass of  
people. Arista stuck close by as well, though he knew if she did get separated from him, she  
was able to contact him with the spellophone.

Magicians and wizards of every description could be seen here, shopping, talking,  
waiting on line, and speaking in practically every tongue imaginable. Colorful posters  
advertising everything from the latest hit single by the Weird Sisters to a potion to correct  
a receding hairline hung on the walls. Looking around at then while they waited on line to  
buy tickets for the dog show, Severus could well believe the saying that anything was for  
sale at the Octagonal Garden.

A large statue of a bronze dragon recumbent was set in the middle of the plaza  
leading into the second tier of theaters and rooms. It was nearly life size, and was incredibly  
realistic, so much so that Severus and Arista took several glances at it before assuring  
themselves that it wasn't alive. It had deep blue sapphires for eyes and a plaque inscribed  
on the base of black obsidian read: **This sculpture was commissioned to honor Aventurine  
of the Brightwings clan for his exemplary service to the Department of Defense 1925-1990,  
retired Dark Hunter Association, NYC division. **  
Arista read the inscription aloud to her father and cousin, saying afterwards, "Do you  
think this Aventurine might be related to Fireflash, Dad? He said he was from the  
Brightwings clan too."

"It's possible. But I'm not sure how bronzes reckon kinship among themselves. You  
might want to ask him next time you see him."

"I will," she said, then went back to looking at all the posters.

Marietta wriggled in his arms. "Uncle Sev, I want to get down. I can walk myself."

"No, you'll stay right here with me until we get inside the place with the dogs," he  
told her firmly. "It's too easy for you to get lost out here." He settled her more comfortably  
on his hip, and she put her head on his shoulder, gazing wide-eyed at all of the people and  
the shops. "How much longer are we gonna be here?" she asked after a few minutes.

"As long as it takes," he answered, sighing inwardly. Maybe this hadn't been such  
a brilliant idea after all. Toddlers were not known for their patience with lines of any kind.

At last they were able to enter the dog show, however, and once they were inside the  
large sixty square foot arena with all of its various rings for judging breed conformation and  
standards, as well as several mock tracking situations to test the magehound's peculiar  
ability to sniff out magic of all kinds, Severus set Marietta on her feet.

There were several small booths scattered about, selling various items, T-shirts with  
magehounds, mugs, hats, shoes, stationary, posters, towels, statues and stuffed versions of  
the famous golden dog.

Marietta spotted a tall wizard in flashy blue robes selling small stuffed magehounds  
with leather collars complete with brass nametags attached. "Look! A toy magehound. I  
want to see it!" She pointed excitedly to the sales wizard, who seemed to be doing a pretty  
brisk business.

Before Severus could stop her, she started to run over to the booth, intent on seeing  
one of the stuffed toys, which looked very life-like.

"Hold it, young lady!" he yelled, snatching her by the back of her jacket. "Where do  
you think you're going?"

"To see the magehound toys," she said, trying to free herself from his grasp.

"Not without me, you're not. You stay right next to me and don't let go of my hand,  
Marietta, do you understand?" He knelt down so he was on her level, looking directly into  
her face. "No more of this running off, or else I'll get a leash and tie you to me, just like a  
naughty puppy."

"You can't do that! I'm a girl, not a dog, Uncle Sev!"

"Oh, yes I can and I will, if you disobey me one more time and run away from me,  
Marietta DiSarno," he threatened. "So, unless you want to be put on a leash like a dog, you  
hold my hand, hear?"

She gave him a wide-eyed look of disbelief, and for one instant he was certain she  
was going to test his resolve, but then she saw that he wasn't kidding, and thought better of  
it. "Okay," she agreed, and put her hand in his. "_Now_ can we go and see the toys?"

So he took her over to the booth and let her examine the merchandise, which was  
very good quality, though a bit overpriced, in his opinion. But then again, this was New  
York, and things in the city were always expensive.

"All the collars are spelled with an inscription charm, so you can name your dog and  
it will write the name on his tag, that way you'll never lose him," the sales wizard was  
explaining to another customer.

"Pretty neat," Arista said, looking at the price of the dogs, which was five Galleons.  
"You gonna buy one for her, Dad?"

"I'll think about it," he said.

"Uncle Sev, can I have one?" Marietta asked, as if on cue.

"We'll see. If you behave yourself, then maybe I'll buy you one."

"I'll be good," she said, and gave him one of her heartwarming grins. Then she  
glanced about again and said, "Where are the real magehounds?"

"Over there," Arista pointed to a large red ring just beyond the stuffed animal booth  
where handlers dressed in gray or black robes were leading the big golden hounds around  
on leads. A judge stood in the center, wearing a large rosette on his robes and consulting a  
clipboard. Several people were sitting on the benches and chairs about the ring, watching  
anxiously.

Arista consulted her program. "This is the puppy class, judging on conformation and  
appearance," she read. "There are other trials for the magehound with the best nose, the  
ability to find a scent through water, run a obstacle course, follow a trail the quickest and  
longest, and also a seminar on understanding the way a magehound thinks and is able to  
follow magic."

"I suppose you want to attend that last one," Snape said.

"Yes, but it's not until 2 o'clock in the afternoon. So we have time to see some of  
the other exhibitions and stuff first," Arista said, then grinned when she heard the deep  
ringing bay of a magehound hunting. "Sounds like one of the trials has started."

"I want to see! I want to see!" Marietta cried, looking around frantically. She took  
two steps forward, forgetting to take her uncle's hand.

"Ahem!" Severus coughed sharply. "Forgetting something?"

Marietta stopped, ran back to him, and grabbed his hand. "Come on then, Uncle  
Sev!" she tugged at him to follow her.

He followed, allowing her to lead him past the toy booth and towards the ring where  
they were showing the young magehounds. These dogs were slightly smaller than Scout, but  
they all walked with the light firm step characteristic of their breed, and all of them were  
beautiful examples of their breed. They walked proudly, alert and knowing, their noses  
working the air as they did so.

Then the judge had them halt, and he examined each of the dogs for flaws, running  
his hands lightly over them and looking at their ears, teeth, and paws. The magehounds  
stayed still as statues, not moving a muscle the way most other dogs would have. The  
magehounds were known for their intelligence and they were behaving superbly now.

Severus examined the dogs in turn, then asked Arista who she thought would win.  
Arista deliberated for a moment, then pointed to a rather lively golden male that was third  
from the end. "That one. He might not have the height of the other males, but he's got a  
nice expression and his lines are wonderful. He's a gorgeous dog. Though not as good as  
Scout," she added loyally.

"Yes, he's the one I picked too. There's a certain air about him that says he's a  
champion." Severus agreed.

Sure enough, when the judge came back in the center and chose the winning dogs,  
the puppy Arista and Severus had chosen was the winner. The dog's official name was  
Moonlight Serenade out of Amber Star by Ch. Lockheed's Scout.

People clapped and whistled in approval. "No surprise there, folks, that Mooney  
walks away with the blue ribbon," said the announcer. "He's one of the top dogs in this  
show, his sire is the famous Lockheed's Scout, who not only won a championship in the  
show ring but is also known for his capture of the notorious criminal Beau Charles, who he  
tracked for four weeks across the Rockies. Lockheed's Scout, as you know, won Best  
Magehound of the Year for five years in a row and is probably the best dog to ever come  
from Mystic Gaze Kennels in over a century." The announcer indicated a large portrait on  
the wall of a large golden hound with intelligent blue eyes. Underneath was his name and  
the honors he had won.

"Dad! That's our dog!" Arista exclaimed, gaping at the portrait.

"Mooney is young yet, but perhaps he'll be the one to follow in his sire's footsteps  
and live up to Scout's reputation as the best of the best. He's certainly made a good start  
here today. Moonlight Serenade is one of fifteen offspring by the famous Scout, who has  
since been retired and now resides in England."

Severus exchanged glances with Arista. "So that's Scout's son. Who would have  
thought it?"

"He's a celebrity, Dad," Arista said, grinning from ear to ear. "I never knew he was  
so well known. Or that he sired any puppies."

"Well, I guess it would make sense," Snape remarked. "If he was a show dog, that's  
one of the requirements, that they improve their breed standard by siring a litter or two. My  
guess is he was a show dog before he went to work for the Hunters in New York, since show  
dogs have to be perfect in their conformation in order to win a championship, and no dog  
who hunts down necromancers has perfect conformation afterwards."

"Not after tracking a dark wizard all that way," Arista whistled. "I never knew he  
had a kennel name either, or that he was a champion show dog. Why didn't Colin tell us?"

"Maybe he figured it didn't matter, since we wouldn't be showing him anyway."  
Snape shrugged. "Let's go and see some of the tracking exhibitions."

Together they walked down the way where there were huge rectangles set up, each  
with what looked like a small forest inside of it. Somewhere in the forest was a magic  
object of some kind, a ring, a book, a wand. The dogs competed to see which one could find  
the object first and bring it back to their handler.

The bond between the handler and the dog was very close, and often a dog would  
refuse to obey any but his handler, which was commonly referred to as "intelligent  
disobedience", because a magehound was more of a partner than a trained dog. A  
magehound must work with a wizard willingly or not at all, no amount of coercion could  
make a hound hunt for a person he didn't respect. But gain a magehound's trust and he  
would hunt for you until he died.

They were persistence and toughness itself when they were working a trail, and it  
was why they were the Dark Hunter's symbol. They could be trained to hunt with or without  
a partner, and their remarkable nose was legend all throughout North America. Since a  
magehound's lifespan was so great, they lived for forty years or so, they were often given  
several kinds of jobs during their lifetime, or were retired from one job after a time, so they  
would not grow bored.

That was probably why Scout had been retired, Snape surmised, watching as the  
handlers released their dogs at a signal from the judge, setting them free to find the  
enchanted cloak hidden inside the forest. The dogs sprang away like a gunshot, baying  
loudly at the start of the hunt and thereafter tracking silently. The initial bay was a trait of  
the breed and could not be bred out of them. Otherwise, a magehound did not continually  
cry trail like a foxhound or a coonhound, for the suspects a magehound hunted were more  
wary and cleverer than any raccoon or fox.

It took approximately fourteen and a half seconds for the first magehound to emerge  
from the forest dragging the cloak in his mouth. He was followed a second or two later by  
his rival. People began to cheer wildly as the two hounds raced towards their handlers, for  
the dogs knew as well as their partners this was a competition.

But the dog on the right, a big rangy male, got to his handler first, and was awarded  
the blue ribbon. Marietta clapped excitedly and wanted to go pet him.

"I don't know if they allow you to pet the dogs here," Snape told her.

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

In a ring further down, they saw a magehound running through an obstacle course,  
which included a seven-foot wall, a shallow swimming pool, tunnels made of fabric, poles  
where the dog had to weave through them, a slide, a seesaw, a balance beam and a fence that  
had to be crawled under.

The handler stood just on the outside of the course, calling instructions to the dog,  
telling the hound what obstacles to take next. There was a certain sequence to it and the  
dogs were graded not only on how well they performed, but also on speed, and the correct  
sequence of obstacles. Once, a handler called out the wrong sequence, but the dog knew it,  
and performed the correct one on her own.

The wizards watching gasped and clapped in delight. "And that, folks, is what  
makes a magehound a magehound and not just another hunting dog, the ability to remember  
and reason almost like a human being. A magehound's intelligence is very adaptable, he  
never stops learning new things. I don't think there's ever been such a thing as a dumb  
magehound. They are very eager to please, love attention, and make loyal and sweet family  
pets, as well as great hunting companions, even if you're not a Dark Hunter. They also make  
great therapy dogs, guaranteed to bring a smile to any patient's face, even one that says they  
hate dogs."

"That's for sure, right, Dad?" Arista teased.

"I do _not _hate dogs, Arista," Severus objected. "I simply didn't want another one  
right then."

"But you're glad we have Scout now, aren't you?"

"Because he's some wonder dog? Actually, his reputation doesn't really matter all  
that much to me. I liked him before that and still would, even if he was just an ordinary  
animal."

"So would I. But it's pretty amazing that we have a dog that's a legend," his  
daughter said, going over to a table where several pamphlets were set out containing  
information about magehounds. The one she picked up was titled _The Legend of Lockheed's  
Scout—A Necromancer's Worst Nightmare._ Arista read the pamphlet first, it detailed the  
famous case where Scout tracked a notorious mage thief named Beau Charles across the  
Rockies, at last bringing him to bay in Nevada. _Wow! Scout sure is some dog!_ She thought  
in admiration, for the dog had tracked the wizard for four weeks, going without food on  
some days so he would not lose the trail.

The pamphlet also said that Scout held the record for the most collars of any  
magehound in the Department of Defense. In his career, he had caught over a thousand  
criminals. His late partner, Hunter Jerry Santorini, had said that Scout never quit until his  
quarry was brought in, and once he struck a criminal's trail, the dark wizard might as well  
surrender and save himself the trouble of running, for Scout always got his man.

"There is no real monetary value we can place upon the service Scout has done for  
the United States Magical Association, but if we had to put one on him, he would most  
likely be worth at least two thousand Galleons, if not more." the Head of the Department  
was quoted as saying when Scout had won the prestigious Magehound of the Year for the  
fifth time. "We were sorry to lose him, but he's earned his retirement a thousand times  
over."

_Holy God! We own a dog worth two thousand Galleons or more! I wonder how  
Colin ever managed to get him?_

She read further to discover that after his partner's sudden death of a heart attack,  
Scout had chosen to work with Colin Flynn. The two worked several cases together before  
Scout made it plain that he wanted to retire and thus Colin had found him a good home with  
the Snapes.

"Dad, you _have _to read this," she said, handing him the pamphlet.

Snape tucked it into a pocket. "When I get home. I haven't got time to read anything  
with Marietta here."

They turned to go to another exhibit, this one demonstrating how a magehound could  
track a person by their magical aura, when a familiar voice cried, "Hey, Arista! Arista  
Snape!"

Arista spun around, looking for the person who had called her. There, standing not  
ten feet away, was Drake Lockwood. Her friend was accompanied by a tall dark–haired man  
with glasses and a small girl around eight with long dark hair.

"Drake! Hi!" she waved, and he came over, grinning.

"Hello, Arista! Hello, Professor Snape." Drake said. "I never thought we'd run into  
you here. What are you doing over here in America?"

"Visiting my grandparents in New Jersey," Arista replied. "What brings you here,  
Drake?"

"You're looking at it," he said, gesturing at the magehounds. "My dad read about  
the magehound exhibition in one of his veterinary journals and he's been planning to come  
to one for ages. He'd never miss an opportunity to study a new breed of dog, especially one  
that's died out in England, but is thriving here. Ever since he met Scout, he's been talking  
about this trip. He wants to write a paper on them and we might even get a puppy, if he can  
convince my mother to let him spend the money."

"Cool. Maybe if you get a female, we could breed it to Scout," Arista said.

"We could what?" Snape broke in, staring at the two of them as if they'd just  
suggested blowing up Hogwarts. "Now don't go getting any crazy ideas of starting a kennel  
or something, Arista. Because that's the last thing we need, God help us."

"We could probably make a lot of money, though, considering Scout's famous,"  
Arista said.

"No way. The money's not worth the aggravation of raising a litter of puppies,"  
Snape said firmly. Then he turned to Drake and said, "How's your summer so far, Drake?"

"It's good, sir." Then Drake noticed Marietta for the first time, she'd been standing  
quietly holding her uncle's hand and watching the dogs in the ring. "Hey, who's this?"

"My niece, Marietta." The professor answered. "Marietta, say hello to Drake, he's  
one of my students."

Marietta looked up at Drake and gave him a bright grin. "Hi! Do you go to school  
with Arista and Uncle Sev?"

"I do. Pleased to meet you, Marietta," Drake said, holding out a hand for her to  
shake. Then he turned to beckon over his own family. "Professor Snape, this is my father,  
Dr. Robin Lockwood and my sister, Trina. Dad, this is my Potions Master and his daughter  
Arista and his niece Marietta."

The two men shook hands and Dr. Lockwood told Snape how he was trying to  
convince his wife to let him spend the five hundred Galleons on a puppy. "I'd really like to  
try and reintroduce them to Britain. It's a shame they died out there, especially since they  
were originally native to our island. But all my research indicates that it wasn't the  
environment that killed them, but probably too much inbreeding." He glanced around the  
arena. "Clearly, that's not the case here."

"No, they've been breeding magehounds for over three centuries here, I believe,"  
Severus said. "You might want to discuss your idea with one of the breeders here, doctor.  
They'd know more about it than I would."

Dr. Lockwood nodded eagerly. "That's a good idea. I think magehounds could be  
very beneficial to our country in the long run. Trina, d'you want to come with me to look  
at that pretty eight-month old puppy we saw before?"

"Sure, Dad. Have you convinced Mum yet?" his daughter asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Uh, no," the vet sighed. Then he brightened. "I know. You can talk to her, Trina,  
tell her you want to get me a dog for my birthday. It's coming up in two weeks."

"Great idea, Dad! Let's go find us a fireplace," she exclaimed eagerly. The Floo  
network worked internationally and was how wizards in other countries could contact each  
other without writing letters.

"Drake, are you coming with us, or would you rather stay here with your friend?" Dr.  
Lockwood asked his son.

"I'll meet you later by the portrait stand, Dad," Drake answered, waving his hand at  
a tent selling portraits of people and their dogs.

"See you then," his father said, and then he and Drake's sister moved off to find a  
convenient fireplace where they could talk to Drake's mother.

"Think it'll work?" Arista asked him.

Drake shrugged. "It could. Mum didn't know what to get him this year for his  
birthday from us, and Trina's always been good at persuading her to do stuff. She's the baby  
and gets spoiled beyond belief. So if anyone can get my mother to give in, it's my little  
sister."

"Sounds like this one here," Severus said, indicating Marietta.

Drake chuckled. "Yeah, she looks the type, sir. Cute and irresistible."

"I am," Marietta said honestly, and they all laughed.

"She's just like Trina was at that age," Drake mused. Then he said to Arista, "Want  
to get a milkshake? They have pretty interesting ones over there," he indicated a stand some  
ten feet away.

"Sure. Want anything, Dad?" Arista asked.

"No, not right now. We'll probably get lunch soon though, it's past noon. Call me  
on your spellophone when you're done with that line and let me know where you are so we  
can meet up for lunch."

"I will. C'mon, Drake, before that line goes out the door," Arista said, and she and  
Drake moved off to stand on the long line that wound its way around several velvet-roped  
stanchions. "Drake, did you know my dog Scout is really famous here?" she said to her  
friend as they hurried off.

"Are you hungry, Marietta?" he asked his niece, after making sure his daughter and  
Drake were actually on line for milkshakes and not detouring somewhere else.

The little girl nodded. "Yes. I want a hot dog."

Severus looked about, trying to see where they were selling food in the arena. "We'll  
see what we can find," he said, starting to walk around the obstacle course. He thought he  
spotted some tables and chairs and a concession stand off to the right.

By the time they made their way through the tangle of people, Severus's stomach was  
starting to growl as well, and to his relief he saw a stand selling hot dogs, fries, burgers, and  
assorted candies and drinks next to a large pen with several fuzzy magehound puppies  
inside.

"Puppies! Uncle Sev, I want to go play with the puppies!" his niece yelled, jumping  
up and down at the sight of the four foot enclosure where several three-month old  
magehounds tumbled around with kids, chewing on rubber balls and bones and rope bones.

A bored teenage girl wearing a white shirt with a magehound on it was standing next  
to the enclosure beside a table with more pamphlets. A large white sign stuck to the table  
read:

**Save a Life, Make A New Friend,  
Rescue A Magehound! **  
"Are these puppies free to a good home?" the Potions Master asked the girl.

"The puppies? No, they're not free, you have to pay for them. But you can adopt one  
of our older dogs if you like. All you have to do is fill out a form and you can speak to my  
director," the girl said, gesturing to the forms on the table. "Are you interested in adopting  
a dog, sir?"

"No, I've already got one. But a friend of mine may be." Snape said. "I'll tell him  
to come talk to you." Unless his daughter persuades her mother to buy one of the puppies,  
he thought.

"Uncle Sev, can I _pleease_ pet the puppies?" Marietta begged. She had her face  
pressed up against the wire enclosure, eyeing the dogs with undisguised longing.

"Yes. Hold on a minute." He looked at the girl. "Is there a charge to play with the  
puppies?"

"Not really. But you can make a donation to our Rescue program if you like. All the  
money goes to helping us find homes for the dogs and taking care of them." She handed him  
a pamphlet on Magehound Rescue of New York.

"Here," he dug into his pocket and dropped a Galleon into the small tin pail.

"Thanks!" the girl's eyes lit up.

She unlatched the gate and he led Marietta inside. The little girl was so excited she  
was practically hopping and she was grinning like a jack-o-lantern. She made as if to let go  
of his hand, but he caught her and turned her around to face him.

"Just a second, miss. I want you to listen to me carefully before you go pet those  
dogs, okay?" He made certain she was paying attention before he said, "You stay right here  
and play nicely with the puppies while I go over there to that hot dog stand and get some  
lunch. You think you can manage to do that for ten minutes, young lady?"

"Uh-huh. Can I go now?"

"Yes." He turned her around and sent her off with a gentle swat. "Behave now."

She ran over to one of the panting balls of fluff and hugged it. "Aw! You're so  
cute!" The puppy jumped up and licked her whole face and she giggled.

For one moment he had second thoughts about leaving her there. Then he shook his  
head. _How much trouble can she get into here? I'll only be ten minutes or so and I can see  
everything from the concession stand._

He let himself out of the puppy pen. "I'll be right back. I'm just buying some food  
over there while my niece plays with the puppies."

"No problem," the girl shrugged. "Some of the parents leave their kids here all day.  
I don't mind."

"I'll be back in ten minutes," he assured her, thinking _What kind of irresponsible  
parent leaves their child in a puppy playpen all day? _  
He glanced back at Marietta, who was now sitting on the floor, playing tug-o-war  
with one puppy while another crawled into her lap and licked her cheek. She looked like  
she was in heaven.

He quickly made his way to the concession stand. The line was interminably long,  
like every other line in this place, he thought impatiently. He wondered why they didn't  
have more stands selling food. Five minutes later, he was still in nearly the same spot he'd  
been in at first. He cast a quick glance at the puppy pen and saw that Marietta was now  
throwing a red ball for a puppy to catch. At least the puppies were keeping her occupied.  
_I could have made myself a hot dog in the time it's taken for this blasted line to move two  
feet, _he thought irritably.

Over the sounds of people and dogs barking, he could hear two children nearby  
quarreling.

"My puppy is cuter than yours!"

"Is not. Mine's prettier."

"So? Mine's bigger and stronger."

By this time, the line had moved a total of one foot closer to the counter. Snape  
sighed. _Why must children argue over everything?_ He wondered as the quarrel between the  
two kids increased in volume.

"My dog's better than anything!"

"Is not! My dad's better than your dumb dog!"

"Not better than my uncle!"

Snape raised an eyebrow. Something about that last voice sounded familiar. He was  
probably imagining it, though. Little children's voices often sounded similar._ Sounds like  
it's getting serious. Why doesn't one of their parents do something? _He fully expected the  
next sound he would hear would be some kid crying.

Luckily, he was next in line and he quickly ordered four hot dogs, two large fries and  
two pumpkin fizzes.

"That'll be one Galleon and three Knuts, please."

He dug in his pocket and found a Galleon and a Sickle. The cashier handed him his  
change and he moved over to wait for his food on the other side of the counter. He tried to  
look over at the puppy pen, but several people and kids moved in front of his line of sight  
and he couldn't catch a glimpse of her.

"I'm not afraid of nothin'!" he heard the same child who'd been arguing before say.  
"My dad can beat up your uncle easy."

_That kid has some serious problems. Someone ought to_—Then to his horror he heard  
Marietta's voice reply to that statement.

"Oh yeah? My uncle can kick your dad's butt any day he wants."

"Can _not!"_

"Can _too_! Wanna see? UNCLE SEV!"

Her scream could have been heard in China, it echoed around the arena like a knell  
of doom. _That little brat! Wait'll I get ahold of her!_ he thought angrily. He whirled around  
to see if his order was ready. It was, already on a tray. He pointed his wand and muttered  
a hover charm, the tray rose and hovered just over his shoulder.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, thanks," Snape said hastily, then pushed his way past the couple standing in  
front of the puppy pen. They gave him annoyed stares, but he ignored them, in no mood to  
be polite. He vaulted over the four foot high enclosure, in too much of a hurry to go around  
to the gate.

"Marietta!"

His niece was standing practically nose to nose with another child, a boy of about  
four with hair that stuck out all over his head. She was glaring at the other kid fit to kill and  
looked as if she were about to haul off and hit him a good one.

Familiar with the Amarotti temper, Severus quickly stepped in before blood flew.  
"Marietta! What in God's name--!" he began.

"_Here's_ my uncle! Told you he'd come!" she cried triumphantly.

The boy looked up at the tall man with his snapping eyes and his lower lip began to  
tremble.

"Now where's _your_ dad, huh, buster?" Marietta demanded.

The little boy opened his mouth to howl.

Severus didn't wait to see if the boy's father was in the vicinity, he grabbed his niece  
and tucked her under his arm. "Marietta, we're leaving. Right now."

The little girl's lip began to quiver, for his tone was ice cold and furious. "Am I in  
trouble?" she whimpered.

"You are. Very _big _trouble, young lady." He strode through the puppy gate and  
headed for a row of chairs arranged alongside a ring that was currently empty. He glanced  
behind him and saw the tray of food was still hovering along in his wake.

His niece was giving him puppy-dog eyes, her huge blue eyes glistening with  
threatened tears, a time honored tactic of any little child faced with a parent's wrath. _That's  
not going to work with me this time_, he thought firmly. _You can cry your eyes out all you  
want, but you're going to get yelled at just the same, imp. _  
He set her down in one of the empty chairs near the ring, then gave her one of his  
muted famous Snape glares. Marietta sniffled and started to cry softly.

"I leave you alone for ten minutes—_ten minutes_—and what do you do? You pick a  
fight with some little kid and tell him I'm going to beat up his _father!_ That is totally  
unacceptable behavior, Marietta! And so is screaming at the top of your lungs like a banshee,  
young lady."

"B-But he said his dad could beat you up, and that's a _lie_!" she declared defiantly,  
her lower lip sticking out.

"I don't care what he said, you don't go around threatening people like that. Who  
do you think you are? I'm _very_ disappointed in you, Marietta DiSarno. If you keep this  
awful behavior up, young lady, we'll go home right now and you'll never go anywhere with  
me again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Uncle Sev." Another sniffle escaped her.

"Are you going to behave, or should we leave now?"

"No. I'll be good." She looked up at him then, and the woeful expression on her face  
would have melted a dementor. "I'm sorry I was bad."

He sighed. "Just don't do it again." Then he knelt and rubbed his thumb across her  
eyes, wiping her tears away.

She gazed at the tray of food still hovering in the air. "Can I have a hot dog now, or  
am I still in trouble?"

"Of course you can. I'd never starve you, child," he said in some astonishment.

"But Mom said I wouldn't get supper if I was bad."

"Well, I think I've punished you enough, and I won't tell your mother about your  
behavior if you promise to behave from now on. Do we have a deal?"

"I promise," she said, then jumped into his arms.

"Come on, let's go find Arista."

"Then can we eat?"

"If you're that hungry, you can have yours now."

"I am."

"Very well then," He sat back down with her on his lap and brought the tray down  
to hover in front of her. He was starving as well and didn't feel like navigating through the  
crowd to find his daughter and Drake. He set her food in front of her, then turned the ring  
on his right hand and called Arista on her spellophone, telling her to meet him over by the  
empty ring if she wanted to eat lunch.

Arista agreed, and said they'd be there in five minutes and he turned back to his  
niece, who was devouring her hot dog.

"Yum!" she muttered through a mouthful of bread. "Thanks, Uncle Sev."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, you'll choke," he reprimanded gently, then started  
eating his own hot dog.

They shared one of the containers of fries, saving the other for Drake and Arista. The  
two teenagers arrived soon after that, and once they had settled down to eat their own lunch,  
Arista asked, "What was all that commotion before, Dad? It sounded like—"

"Marietta screaming?" he finished with a sigh. "That's exactly what it was."

"I was screaming for Uncle Sev," the child told Arista. "I needed him to beat up the  
other boy's dad for me."

"You needed him to_ what_?" Arista repeated, exchanging glances of disbelief with  
Drake.

Drake's mouth twitched into a grin. "She wanted you to beat up somebody's_ father_,  
Professor? What did this guy look like?"

"I have no idea, and I certainly wasn't motivated to find out," Snape said sourly.  
"I'm a Hogwarts professor, I don't get involved in public brawls."

"I bet you could have taken him easy," Arista speculated, her shoulders quivering  
with suppressed laughter.

"Me too!" Marietta sang. "Uncle Sev can kick everyone's butt."

This was too much for the two younger wizards. "She's got a point there, sir,"  
Drake managed to say before he burst out laughing.

Arista was nodding in agreement, unable to speak because she was laughing too hard.

Snape favored them with a disapproving glower. "I'm glad the both of you find this  
so amusing. It wasn't funny. Everyone in the damn arena heard her screeching. They  
probably thought she was being tortured or something."

"My little sister pulled something like that with my mother once," Drake said when  
he had managed to regain control over himself. "She left Trina with me and my Aunt Annie  
when she went into Owlery to mail a letter and Trina was about three and cranky and as soon  
as she left, my sister started screaming "Mummy! Mummy!" loud enough for the whole of  
Diagon Alley to hear. Well, I never saw my mother move so fast in all of her life. She came  
out of the post office like a bolt of lightning, her wand out, ready to blast somebody. She  
thought Trina was being kidnapped or something. But when she looks round, all she sees  
is Trina holding onto my aunt's hand and howling. I think she said something like, "Katrina  
Allison Lockwood, what in blazes are you yelling for?" And my sister just looks at her and  
says, "I wanted you here." I thought my mum was going to pass out right there. Either that  
or strangle my sister."

"Did she get in trouble?" Marietta wanted to know, sounding pleased that she wasn't  
the only one who could scream her lungs out.

Drake nodded. "Uh-huh. Got a swat and a ten-minute lecture, if I remember right.  
And that was one of the few times she ever got punished for anything. Trina's always gotten  
away with murder, 'cause she's the baby and the only girl."

"No fair._ I'm_ the only girl and I don't get away with anything," Arista grumbled.

"Who are you kidding?" Severus snorted. "You don't get punished half as much as  
you should for some of the things you do, Arista Snape. Challenging that giant in  
Dragonshape ought to have gotten you grounded for life. A week later I let you attend the  
Yule Ball instead. Running around in the middle of the night rescuing mermaids, all that  
got you was a five minute lecture."

"You made me drink that horrible Decongestion Draft!" she objected. "I'd have  
rather been grounded."

"That wasn't a punishment, that was a necessary prevention for pneumonia," the  
professor shot back. "Which worked, might I add, so you don't have anything to complain  
about, miss. And what about the time you and Mel decided to go shopping for a spellophone  
at five thirty in the morning and didn't bother to tell me where you're going?"

"We didn't want to wake you. And we figured we'd be back before you woke up,"  
Arista said. "We didn't know the line would be so long. Besides, you grounded me for two  
weeks for that, and took away my spellophone too."

"I should have locked you in your room for a month. Did you happen to ask Miss  
Seton what punishment _she_ got for that little shopping expedition?"

"Um, I think her parents grounded her for three weeks and took away her broomstick  
and her spellophone," Arista admitted.

"There, you see?" he declared triumphantly. "Now I don't ever want to hear that you  
never get away with anything, young lady."

"Your lectures are as bad as being grounded for a week, Dad," his daughter pointed  
out.

"Not hardly, since you still seem to get into trouble," her father said.

"Well, if you wanted a perfect daughter, you should have adopted an angel," Arista  
drawled.

"Don't get smart with me, young lady," he growled softly. He sent the empty tray  
back to the concession stand with a flick of his wand. "Weren't you supposed to meet your  
father back at the portrait tent, Drake?"

"Yes, sir," he answered. "I wonder if Trina managed to sweet talk my mum into  
getting a puppy?"

"Let's go and find out," Arista said, and they all headed back over to the portrait tent.

**A/N: So, is Marietta a firecracker or what? Did you think Sev did a good job with her or not? And wait till you see what happens next!**


	8. Marietta's New Friend

**Marietta's New Friend**

﻿When they got to the portrait tent, Dr. Lockwood and Trina were already there,  
looking extremely pleased. "Well, brat?" Drake looked at his sister. "Did you guilt-trip  
Mum into getting a dog or what?"

Trina grinned. "You shoulda been there, Drake. I told her how it was Dad's birthday  
and all and then I said the only thing he really wanted was a magehound. I reminded her  
how he'd never been allowed to have a dog when he was a kid, and this dog was special and  
it would win him the Rhodri Davies Award for Veterinary Excellence if he brought it home  
and managed to start a breeding program. Then I gave her my best I really-want-this look  
and showed her a picture of the puppy too."

"And then?"

"Then she was quiet for about five minutes, thinking. Then she said, let me talk to  
your father, and I knew I'd won." Trina gave her brother a high five.

"It's damn scary, how they can manipulate us, isn't it?" Severus said to Dr.  
Lockwood softly.

The other man nodded. "Trina's got it down to an art form, I'm afraid. She'll make  
a great Ambassador of Magical Affairs when she's grown. She could make sworn enemies  
think they've been friends all their lives. At least this time, it worked in my favor."

"So where's the wonder dog?" Drake asked.

"Still with her mother, I'm afraid." Dr. Lockwood said. "All the other puppies the  
breeders had here were already spoken for. The only ones available were a litter of five-  
week-olds, and you know that no responsible breeder will take a puppy from its mother until  
it's at least eight weeks and had all of its shots and so forth."

"So now we have to wait three weeks for our puppy," Trina groaned. "Even though  
Dad already paid for her."

"Sometimes you don't get everything you want right away, Trina," Dr. Lockwood  
said, with the air of one who'd said the same thing at least ten times already. "The breeder  
is just following correct procedures, the way he should. I wouldn't buy a puppy from one  
who didn't. Taking a puppy away from its mum too soon results in too many health issues  
and behavior problems."

"But Dad, you weren't planning on spending three weeks here," Drake said. "You  
said your practice could only spare you a week at most."

"I know. That's the only problem. My partner, Dr. Merrow, can't handle all the  
cases herself, and she just called me and said there's an emergency with the Gray's pet  
griffin. Their griffin, Windsong, was due to deliver next week, but now she's gone into  
premature labor and the cub is turned around all wrong and Irina isn't experienced enough  
to risk trying a Caesarian by herself."

"So we have to go home early," Trina said sullenly. "Without our puppy and without  
seeing the Statue of Liberty."

"Can't be helped, kitten," Dr. Lockwood said regretfully. "Windsong's a valuable  
animal and my patient and I won't risk losing her. I've only done one Caesarian on a griffin  
myself, but that's one more than Irina has. The breeder here, a Michael Asher, agreed to  
ship the puppy to us by Express Post when she was old enough, but I don't really like the  
idea of a dog that young being transported across the ocean alone. I know the crates are  
pressurized and all, but they're not always heated right and sometimes a young puppy like  
that can develop bronchial infections from being chilled and the last thing I need is to show  
my wife a sick puppy that cost us five hundred Galleons."

Arista frowned, trying to figure out a way to help the Lockwoods out of their  
dilemma. Then she had an idea. "How about we bring the puppy back with us, Dr.  
Lockwood? We're not going back for three weeks, right, Dad? And Fireflash wouldn't mind,  
he would barely even notice the puppy crate."

Severus looked thoughtful. "I don't know, Arista. Fireflash isn't a pet taxi, you  
know."

"We wouldn't want you to go through any trouble," Dr. Lockwood began. "The  
puppy's our responsibility, not yours."

"It wouldn't be any trouble, really, Dr. Lockwood," Arista reassured him. "Fireflash  
is a bronze dragon, he could carry a hundred times our weight on his back and not even feel  
it."

"You've actually _flown_ on a bronze dragon?" Dr. Lockwood gaped at them. "But  
they're myths!"

"Not here they aren't," Snape said with a wry grin. "Here the myth is alive and  
thriving."

"Awesome!" Drake said. "I'd love to meet one. Hey, Dad, why don't I stay here for  
three weeks with the professor and Arista? That way I could look after the puppy on the way  
home and get a chance to actually speak with a bronze dragon too."

"That's a great idea!" Arista chimed in, looking at her father pleadingly. "It would  
solve all your problems."

Dr. Lockwood looked at Severus. "Is it me, or are we being  
manipulated again, Severus?"

Snape shook his head. "No, you're quite correct, Robin." He turned to his daughter.  
"Arista, we can't just go and invite a guest into your grandparents' home without asking  
their permission."

"So ask them, Dad. I'm sure they wouldn't mind. They love kids, and Drake's old  
enough not to need a babysitter. And today Aunt Teri and the twins are leaving, so there will  
be an extra bedroom," she persuaded. Tactfully, she didn't mention that Marietta would also  
be leaving, not wanting the little girl to have hysterics.

"I'll be so quiet, you won't even know I'm there," Drake added.

"If this will be too much of an imposition, Severus, we'll figure something else out,"  
Dr. Lockwood began.

"I'll talk to Nana myself, Dad," Arista said.

"Very well, you can ask her," Severus conceded. "But if she says no, you aren't to  
try and change her mind, am I clear?"

"Understood, sir," Arista agreed. Then she looked at Dr. Lockwood. "Where's the  
fireplace and the Floo powder around here?"

"The room just off to the right of the restrooms," said the vet, indicating a corridor  
just beyond the portrait tent.

"I'll show her, Dad!" Trina said, and then she and the two teenagers headed off down  
the corridor.

Five minutes later, they returned, grinning happily. "Nana said it was fine, that it  
wouldn't be the same without two or more kids around the place," Arista reported. "So, can  
he stay, Dad?"

"If Dr. Lockwood agrees, then yes."

Both teenagers turned to stare imploringly at the vet, who gave in after about a  
minute. "As long as Professor Snape doesn't mind, I suppose you can stay, Drake." He gave  
his son a stern glance. "I don't think you need me to tell you to be on your best behavior,  
do you, young man?"

"No, sir."

"You're to obey Professor Snape the way you would me, and be polite and respectful  
to Arista's grandparents as well. You give them any kind of trouble and you'll spend the rest  
of the summer in your room writing up charts for me and being my kennel cleaner, is that  
understood?"

"Yes, sir. I won't be any trouble, I swear." Drake promised.

"I'll get your luggage from the hotel when we're ready to leave," the vet said. He  
fished in his pocket and withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment. "Here's the address of  
the breeder, Mr. Asher. You can write to him a few days before you pick up the puppy and  
make sure he has everything in order, all the dog's medical records and papers and so forth."

"I know what to ask for, Dad. I was your file clerk for two summers, remember?"  
his son reminded him.

"Just making sure. Here's the bill of sale too, we've got the only female in the  
litter." Dr. Lockwood continued giving Drake instructions on what the puppy should come  
with as well as giving his son some spending money. He then turned to Professor Snape and  
said how much he appreciated Severus's assistance and offered to give Scout and Comfrey  
their yearly check-ups free of charge by way of a thank you. Snape tried to refuse, but  
Lockwood insisted, saying it was the least he could do.

Then it was time for the Lockwoods to leave and after retrieving Drake's suitcase,  
the vet and Trina bid goodbye to him and left. They'd be traveling back to England through  
the Floo Network, using a series of fireplaces, a much more roundabout method than flight  
by a bronze dragon, but it was also more affordable.

By then, it was time for Arista to attend the lecture on the way magehounds tracked  
magic. Drake wanted to attend also, but Severus knew Marietta would never sit still through  
an hour-and-a-half lecture. So he took her to see some of the more interesting trials, such as  
the one where magehounds tracked down "criminals" by their magical auras. Most of those  
dogs were working as a Hunter's partner, and it was the Dark Hunter who demonstrated his  
dog's tracking ability.

Or the one where they were instructed to sniff out contraband magical items in trunks  
and on people, like fireball launchers and illegal substances, like dragonbane and midnight  
mushroom powder, a highly addictive drug that inhibited a wizard's magical powers if used  
too often. He was amazed by the dog's acute sense of smell, one magehound demonstrated  
his ability to find a gram of midnight mushroom hidden inside a bag of holding among  
several other kinds of powders with a concealment spell on it.

Some dogs were better at sniffing out narcotics than others, they were the ones used  
regularly by the Hunter narcotic division. Others, such as Scout, were better at hunting  
down fugitives, though no other dog on record had ever equaled Scout's feat of the longest  
trail or the most collars.

He learned that a magehound's intelligence was paramount for them to track down  
a dark wizard, and it was that intelligence that made them such a wonderful companion.  
Magehounds had their own versions of obedience trials, for it was not fair to pit them against  
ordinary canines. A magehound learned commands three times as fast as a regular dog and  
once learned, he never forgot them. But a magehound was also a proud animal, and would  
refuse to work with or obey a wizard he did not like or trust. Which was why the use of  
force was strongly discouraged when training a magehound. While not normally aggressive  
or vicious animals, a magehound subjected to repeated abuse by his wizard master had been  
known to bite the offender badly enough to require surgery.

By the same token, however, a magehound could be a loyal and gentle family pet,  
and there were many stories of magehounds protecting their owners and their owners'  
children to the death. The breed was very popular, but also expensive to buy and to keep,  
for a magehound lived half a human lifetime, and that was why most wizards did not own  
one.

Snape knew that over half of the people here who did own one made more in a year  
than he did teaching, if not for Colin's generosity, he would never have been able to afford  
Scout at all.

Marietta had been remarkably well-behaved since the incident in the puppy pen, but  
by the time Arista's lecture was over, she was starting to get cranky and tired. Not being  
minded to deal with a whiny three-year-old, Snape decided they'd seen enough and it was  
time to go home.

On the way out, he slipped Arista some money and told her to buy one of the stuffed  
magehounds they'd seen earlier, he would give it to Marietta when they got home, as a  
surprise. Then they boarded the Magic Metro, which would take them back to Point  
Pleasant train station. Marietta, exhausted by her long day in Manhattan, soon fell asleep  
on Severus' lap, and slept for the entire train ride, only waking when he mounted his  
broomstick to fly the rest of the way back to the beach house.

After dinner, which consisted of penne with vodka sauce and leftover chicken  
parmigiana, among other things, Arista took Drake outside along with the twins to play one  
last game of spelled hockey with them before they went home. Mark had shown her how  
to spell the puck and transfigure the golem, they played until it was dark and her aunts and  
uncles were leaving. Drake proved to catch on wonderfully quick, like Mark he was fast and  
agile on his skates, and once he got the hang of it, proved he could score goals unaided as  
well as assisted by Arista.

"I like this game," he'd said afterwards, when they were taking off their skates in the  
garage. "I think we should teach it to Kit and Mel and Trish when we get back to  
Hogwarts."

"Yeah, they'd like it too. We can show them and maybe anybody else who's  
interested too. If it catches on enough, maybe one day we could have House competitions,  
the way they do for Quidditch," Arista mused.

"But then none of the SR's except you and Mel would be on the same team," Drake  
pointed out.

"Oh, right. Well, maybe we could, uh, make up mixed House teams. We could tell  
Dumbledore that it fostered cooperation between students, which is true."

"Now don't go counting your dragons before they hatch, Snape," Drake chuckled.

They headed back inside, where they bid goodbye to Teri, Johnny, and Drew and  
Nick. "See you next Fourth of July, Arista and Sev!" Teri said, embracing everyone,  
including Severus, who actually hugged and kissed her back, much to the amazement of  
Drake, who was used to seeing him as a stern professor, not relaxed as he was now.  
_There're more sides to him than an octagon_, the boy thought, recalling then how he was  
when he was at home with just Arista, on the times Drake had come over to Spinner's End.

Ari had set out dessert and coffee and the remainder of the Amarottis and Drake sat  
around the table enjoying it, until Marietta caught sight of her father putting their suitcases  
in the hall. "Where are we going, Daddy?" she asked curiously.

"Home, Marietta," her father answered absently, not thinking, trying to remember  
if he had all of their bags.

"No! I'm not going. I want to stay here with Uncle Sev," the child said, wearing her  
mulish scowl.

"Well, you can't. We have to go home, your mom and I have work tomorrow."

"I'm not going." Then she whirled around and ran back into the kitchen, where  
Sandy was finishing her last cup of coffee and saying to her parents and Severus, "The real  
trick will be getting Marietta out of here before she can throw a tantrum over you, Sev."

The professor winced. "I'll see what I can do."

Just then Marietta rushed up to him, grabbed him around the leg and cried, "Uncle  
Sev! My daddy says we have to go home, but I'm not gonna. I'm staying here with you. Tell  
him I don't have to go away, please!" Huge tears were already rolling down her cheeks and  
she clung to him the way a drowning man clung to a spar, for dear life.

"Oh, great. Good one, Paul," Sandy muttered. She came around the table, kneeling  
in front of her daughter, who had her face buried in Snape's lap. "Marietta, honey, its not  
like you'll never see him again. We can visit again soon, I promise."

"No!" Marietta sobbed. "I don't want to go home! _You _can go home with Daddy.  
There's no one to play with there." She was working herself up to a full scale fit.

"Marietta, you can invite one of your friends over anytime you want."

The little girl shook her head. "But I don't want them. I want Uncle Sev."

_She wants me because I pay attention to her_, he thought suddenly._ She's lonely_. He  
remembered what that felt like, as a child he'd been alone all of the time, never allowed to  
have friends over because of his father. While he knew that wasn't the case here, he  
suspected that Sandy's offer of friends coming over had been broken more than once, simply  
because at the end of the day, she was too tired to want another child to look after.

Scout came up to them, a worried expression in his eyes, and began to lick the  
unhappy child's face. Seeing the magehound made Snape remember something. "Marietta,  
listen to me," he said, and he put a hand under her chin and tilted her head up. "What if I  
could give you a friend to take home? One that could be with you all the time?"

"Like you?"

"Better. Wait here with Scout and I'll be right back."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He gently unwound her fingers from his leg, transferring them to the dog's collar.  
Scout simply sat down and let the girl hug him.

"Sev, what are you up to?" Sandy asked.

"You'll see. Arista, come with me," he ordered.

She followed him into the den. "What's up, Dad?"

"Where's that stuffed dog you bought earlier? I need it and a pebble or something."

She went and got the dog and a pebble from the garden. Severus drew his wand and  
tapped the pebble, murmuring, "_Arterial pulse_." Immediately, the pebble began to beat like  
a heart.

Arista's eyes lit up. "I get it now. You're going to make her a friend, right?"

"Yes." He pointed his wand again, and the stitches on the front of the dog's chest  
unraveled.

"Wait, before you put the pebble inside, let me try something," she said, halting him.  
She took the pulsing pebble in her hand and closed her eyes. He saw an odd rose colored  
glow come from her hands and envelop the pebble. "There. I enchanted the pebble with an  
empathic love charm. Like what Mom did for my locket. So when she hugs the dog, she'll  
feel the love inside it." She handed the pebble back to her father. "It always helped me  
when I was feeling sad or upset at the orphanage."

"Brilliant idea, Arista!" He quickly inserted the pebble inside the dog's chest and  
resealed the stitches. Now when he held the dog, he could feel a heartbeat and a feeling of  
love and contentment washed over him. "This should make it easier for her to leave me, I  
hope."

They returned to Marietta, who had her arms wrapped about Scout in a bear hug.  
There was instant relief in her eyes when she saw her uncle had returned as he'd promised.  
Then her eyes lit on the toy Snape held in his hand. "A puppy! My own puppy!" She  
released Scout and ran over to him.

"That's right, imp. Remember I told you if you were good, I'd get you one?" he said.  
"Here's your new friend, Marietta. He'll be yours forever and he'll always be there for you  
to play with." He handed her the dog.

Marietta clutched it to her chest, her eyes wide with delight. "Oh! He's the bestest  
dog, Uncle Sev! He loves me, he really does!" She hugged the dog tighter. "And I can feel  
his heart, like a real dog."

"And when you hug him, you can think of Uncle Sev," Arista added. "You can even  
name him like a real dog, Marietta." She indicated the blank nametag on the leather collar.

"I can?" the little girl examined the collar with interest. "Wow!" Then she ran over  
to show her mother. "Look, Mom! Uncle Sev gave me my very own puppy. What should  
I name him?"

Sandy smiled. "Whatever you want, Marietta. He's your dog."

The little girl frowned, thinking. She eyed the dog. Then she looked back at her  
uncle.

Snape noted the gleam in her eye uneasily, and thought in alarm, _Oh please, no.  
Don't let her do what I think she's going to.  
_"I think I'll call him . . . _Sevvy_!" she announced in ringing tones. "That's the perfect  
name. Sevvy!" And the magic in the collar flared and wrote the dog's name on the brass  
nametag in flowing letters.

Professor Snape buried his face in his hands. _Just what I always wanted. A dog  
named after me. Help me God. I've been immortalized as a child's stuffed toy. _"Aww! Isn't that cute, Dad?" Arista said, her eyes dancing with merriment.

"Wonderful," he answered, rolling his eyes.

"What do you say to your uncle, Marietta?" Sandy prompted.

"Thanks! I really love my Sevvy." And she ran over to him and hugged him, her eyes  
shining.

He picked her up and held her close. "I love you, imp." He whispered into her ear.  
"Now, you be good and take care of your dog, okay? I'll see you again next year on the  
Fourth of July."

"But that's so far away."

"It'll be here sooner than you think. In the meantime, you play with your, uh,  
Sevvy," he winced. "And if you want, you can even write to me, your mom will help you."

"Really? And will you write back?"

"Yes, of course."

"Neat! I never get letters!" She kissed him on the cheek. "You're my favorite uncle,  
Uncle Sev!" Then he set her down and she raced back to Sandy. "Mom, guess what? Uncle  
Sev said I can write to him and he can write me too. And when we get home, I can show  
Sevvy my room, and my dolls, and we need to get him a leash, so he doesn't get lost or run  
away. And Sevvy can sleep with me every night."

Sandy picked up her daughter, giving Snape a grateful glance. "Thank you for that,  
Sev. It's better than a real dog."

Snape shrugged, embarrassed. "It was the least I could do. Better than you having  
to drag her away kicking and screaming. Now you can all go home happy."

Sandy smiled at him, her grin nearly as bright as her daughter's. "You're something  
else, Sev. My sister was one smart woman, to marry you." She leaned over and kissed him  
lightly on the cheek. Then she hugged and kissed Arista. "Goodbye and thank you for taking  
such good care of my Marietta. We'll see you next July, same time next year." She glanced  
at her daughter, who was clutching Sevvy to her adoringly. "Marietta, can you say goodbye  
to your uncle and Arista like a good girl?"

"Goodbye, Arista! Bye, Uncle Sev! Don't forget to write!" she waved at them from  
over her mom's shoulder, and the last sight Severus had of her was her sparkling blue eyes  
and her mischievous grin.

To his utter shock he found he didn't feel relieved that he was rid of the little  
mischief-maker. Instead he felt almost . . .sad. He couldn't be missing Marietta, now could  
he? the rational part of his mind asked. Of course not. Well, maybe a little.

He turned to go back inside the kitchen, when he spied Drake and Arista leaning  
against the wall wearing identical smirks on their faces. _Now what are they up to? They  
look like two old ladies with a juicy bit of gossip. _Too late he recalled that Arista and Drake  
had heard the name Marietta had given her stuffed dog.

His eyes narrowed and he gave the two snickering teenagers one of his warning  
glowers. "If either of you tell anyone at school about Marietta naming her dog after me, you  
both will be in serious trouble. You, Mr. Lockwood, will fail my Potions class for the year.  
And you, Miss Snape, will be grounded for life. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal, Dad," Arista answered, giving him her best totally innocent look. "I won't  
even whisper it to the walls of my bedroom."

"What are you talking about, Professor?" Drake asked. "I didn't hear anything about  
Marietta naming her dog."

"See that it remains that way," he ordered, then turned on his heel to leave. He  
wasn't too worried about those two starting rumors, they could be relied on to be discreet.

Behind him, he heard Drake hiss, "Sevvy! It's too funny," and begin to laugh  
hysterically.

Arista soon joined him, and when Severus darted a look at them, they were  
practically on the floor, doubled over, laughing so hard tears were rolling down their cheeks.  
He rolled his eyes in disgust. _What's the world coming to, when a Potions Master can't even  
get respect from his own daughter or his student anymore, and has to endure having a three-  
year-old name her favorite toy after him? If anyone at Hogwarts ever knew of this, I'd never  
live it down. My reputation would be shot all to hell. He shook his head resignedly. Sevvy.  
Lord have mercy. Guess it could have been worse. She could have called the dog Severus  
Sweetcakes. Thank God for small favors. _  
A corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile. Much as he hated to admit it, he  
was going to miss Marietta, the little imp had wrapped herself quite neatly about his heart,  
without him even realizing it. There were few things sneakier or more lovable than a three-  
year-old girl, the Potions Master thought with a secret smirk. Then he continued on into the  
kitchen, steadfastly ignoring the two young wizards laughing fit to die behind him.

**A/N: Well, that's the end of their peaceful vacation. From here on out things get a whole heck of a lot darker, nastier, and scarier, so be prepared!**


	9. Dragon's Bane

**Dragon's Bane**

﻿It was two days after Marietta's departure, and that afternoon had been one of the  
busiest ones Arista had since arriving in America. She played spelled hockey one on one with Drake for the early part of that day but later on she practiced defensive combat magic with him under Snape's critical eye. Severus wanted them to demonstrate their ability to combine magics to Leo, which was something they'd discovered by chance last November, practicing in the Forbidden Forest along with the other SR's.

Combination magic was only possible if one was an empath like Arista and could  
link her mind with another wizard's, enabling them to cast the exact same spell at double, triple, or even quintuple the strength, depending on how many minds she linked with. That unique approach had enabled the five young wizards to stun a rampaging giant last December, giving a younger student time to run to safety. Afterwards, Dumbledore had told them to keep this new magic a secret from other students, but he wished them to continue practicing with it, to determine exactly what they could do with it. They were to report any new developments to the Headmaster or Professor Snape, otherwise no one was allowed to know about it. Dumbledore feared that most wizards would regard the use of combination magic as an invasion of a person's mind, since the empath behind the spell had to link with  
the others in order to combine their powers. Using combination magic required the greatest trust in each other and that was not something many people could or would allow an empath, whose power enabled her to see inside a person's heart.

Severus made an exception in Leo's case because he knew the earth wizard would  
never look askance at this new method since his own daughter had been an empath and his brother as well, therefore he knew an empath's code of personal privacy was not broken lightly. Leo was particularly interested in it, for it had never occurred to him or Andrea to use magic while linked by empathy.

So far, the SR's—the abbreviation stood for Snape's Rejects, and referred to the five  
friends forming their own group to stop the persecution of younger students by a gang of bullies at Hogwarts, the name itself was meant to poke fun at their former status as rejects of the popular crowd—had managed to combine their magic to cast Shield charms, Stunning hexes, Levitation charms, Flying charms, and the Patronus charm.

The one drawback to the combination magic was that all of those participating had  
to know the spell being cast extremely well, and thus far they had not experimented too much with the more dangerous jinxes and curses. Also, the cost of combining magic was quite high, and exhausted the wizards more than casting ordinary spells. Thus far, the only new spell Arista had tried with Drake was the Excelsior charm. Excelsior was a standard defensive charm in a Hunter apprentice's arsenal, Arista had learned it years ago, and Drake had learned it last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Severus instructed them to use their combination magic and cast Excelsior on  
themselves while he threw a Paralyzation spell at them to see if the combined Excelsior charm was strong enough to resist an offensive spell cast by a master wizard.

They were practicing out in the backyard, and Leo was seated off to one side on the  
deck, watching avidly.

"All right. Wands out!" Snape ordered, drawing his in a blurring motion.

For this spell, Arista would use her wand, a seven inch Ligum Vitae one with a  
phoenix core, even though she was perfectly capable of casting spells without one, having been trained in the American manner. Drake drew his own wand, hickory with a dragon heartstring, narrowing his eyes and taking two deep breaths to calm himself, for he often stuttered when nervous.

"Ready?" Arista asked.

Drake nodded.

The little Healer opened her mind, allowing herself the most delicate of touches on  
Drake's mind, just enough to bind their talents together. "Excelsio!" they shouted in the same breath.

Doubled in strength, the Excelsior charm settled over them in a brilliant blue wave,  
fitting close to their bodies, almost like a suit of armor. It made Arista feel almost  
invincible, despite the fact that Excelsior repelled mostly physical damage and not magical.

No sooner had their spell settled about them, then Severus cast his own.  
_"Immobilus_!"

A green spray shot out of his wand. It struck them and bounced off, repelled by the  
combined power of the Excelsior charm. Green droplets splattered on the ground at their feet, but otherwise the jinx had no effect.

Drake and Arista exchanged triumphant glances. To have blocked a spell cast by a  
master of combat like Severus was no small thing.

Snape arched an eyebrow, though he had rather expected the jinx to be blocked.  
"Very good. If you can repel a standard paralyzing spell, you should be able to block this one as well." The Potions Master's eyes narrowed and he shouted, "_Stupefy!"_

A red beam shot out of his ebony wand and slammed into the Excelsior shield about  
Arista with a crackle. This spell, a stronger offensive one, was more difficult for Excelsior to absorb, and the shield buckled under the force of Snape's casting, causing his daughter to be knocked backwards.

She fell to the ground, but was not stunned, since the charm had blunted the spell's  
true force. Even so, she winced, for her landing had not been too gentle. But she was used to such rough tutoring, a bout of kung fu with Colin had often left her with bruises, and she sprang back to her feet almost immediately.

"I don't think it can take much more, I can feel it weakening," she called to her  
father.

"So cast something else to defend yourself," Snape ordered, frowning. "Quickly! If  
I were a real opponent, you'd be dead by now."

Arista exchanged glances with Drake, and both of them agreed silently on their next  
spell. "Go ahead, sir," the Slytherin boy said.

This time Severus cast a shapechange curse on them. "Metamorphis arachnia!"

But they deflected it with a Mirror charm. "Reflectivo!" which made the curse  
bounce back at the caster.

Luckily, Snape knew how to duck quicker than lightning, and avoided being  
transformed into a spider by a hairsbreadth.

"Nice one!" Leo applauded.

The two students grinned.

Snape merely gave them a nod of approval, then cast Tarantagulla at them, which  
they barely managed to block in time, as they were caught off guard by his swift recovery.

"Always focus on what your opponent is doing," Severus lectured sternly, scowling  
at them. "I nearly got you because you were too busy congratulating yourselves and not paying attention to me. Focus is essential in a duel, lose it and you'll sign your own death warrant." He brought his wand up menacingly. "Again, and this time _pay attention_! I'm not running kindergarten karate class here."

Spells flew thick and fast, as Severus worked the two until they were ready to drop.  
He pushed them as hard as he dared, wanting to test the way they worked together as well how much force their combination defensive spells could withstand. But at last he took pity on them and called a halt, lest he drain their reserves too severely.

He was quite pleased with the results, however, though all he gave his students was  
a brief smile of approval and a comment of, "Not too bad for a first session. We'll work  
some more on your control tomorrow."

Arista and Drake were staggering with weariness by then. The act of combining their  
powers and fending off Snape at the same time exhausted them like nothing they'd ever done. Arista couldn't ever recall feeling so drained, not even after one of Colin's practice sessions.

"I feel like I've just climbed all the stairs in Hogwarts about fifty times with a basket  
of rocks tied to my back," Drake murmured to Arista as they headed inside for dinner.

"Me too," she groaned. "And that was only practicing for an hour and a half. Can  
you imagine what we'd feel like if it went on for longer?"

"No. Because then I'd have passed out," her friend said, yawning. "Your dad's one  
of the toughest instructors I've ever had in Defense. Compared to him, all the others were a joke."

Arista nodded. "But that's the only way we're gonna learn to really fight against a  
stronger opponent." She rubbed her lower back ruefully. "I just wish it didn't leave so many bruises on you. I'm gonna need a hot bath after supper or else I won't be able to move tomorrow."

Drake merely shook his head in agreement. They'd ended up on the ground more  
than on their feet at the end of the session, as Snape threw stronger and stronger hexes at them.

The two students were so tired they almost fell asleep in the middle of dinner and  
Severus ordered them to bed right after supper was over. Neither of them protested.

Arista barely had enough energy left to run herself a bath, soak for fifteen minutes,  
and then pull on her pajamas and slide into bed. She was asleep before her head touched the pillow, her body's craving for rest undeniable. She slept deeply and dreamlessly until around one o'clock in the morning, when she was awakened by a voice calling her name urgently.

She sat bolt upright in bed, her whole body quivering with the desperate need behind  
that call. "Dad?" she gasped, reaching out with her mind towards him.

But he was asleep, dreaming calmly, there was nothing wrong with him that she  
could sense. Puzzled, she extended her empathic senses outward again, touching the minds of all the people in the beach house lightly. All were slumbering peacefully.

Then who had called her?

She knew she was not mistaken, the desperation in that tone had woken her from a  
sound sleep. It had not been a dream, she was almost certain of it. Shivering, she clutched the blue blanket tighter to her.

"_Arista! I need you! Come to me, please!" _That time she heard the plea clearly, her mind no longer clouded by sleep, and she  
recognized the voice as well.

"Fireflash? Is that you?" she whispered in disbelief. What on earth could pose a  
threat to a bronze dragon?

"_Help me_ . . ."

The dragon's mental voice was faint, laced with utter despair, pain, and terror. It  
scared her to pieces.

"_Where are you?"_ she sent back, throwing off her covers and scrambling out of bed.  
She shoved on her slippers and raced out the bedroom door.

"_I'm here. On the lawn. Hurry, Arista . . ." _

Some instinct made her pause at her father's door, where she touched him with her  
mind. "_Dad, wake up! Something's wrong with Fireflash!" _Snape was awake in an instant, pausing only to throw on a sleeping robe over his  
pajama bottoms before joining his daughter in the hallway. "What's wrong, Arista?" he asked, shoving his hair out of his eyes. "How do you know something's happened to  
Fireflash?"

"Because he called to me and told me so," she answered, half-running down the  
stairs. "He's on the lawn and from what I picked up from him, he's hurt really bad."

Snape didn't bother questioning her further, he simply followed her outside into the  
front yard. There, lying half on the lawn and half in the street, was the massive bulk of a bronze dragon.

Even in the pale light of an early dawn, Arista could see the bronze's normally  
glowing scales were dim, his crest flattened and he was sprawled peculiarly, almost as if his legs would no longer support him. His brilliant blue eyes were dark with pain and his teeth bared in a half-grimace of acute distress.

She could feel waves of agony pouring from him, so strong she whimpered and  
nearly went to her knees. "Oh God! The pain . . .!"

Snape grabbed her shoulder, pulling her upright against him. "Shield yourself,  
dammit!" he ordered harshly, giving her a slight shake. "You're no good to him if you pass out."

Flushing, she did as she was told. Once her empathic shields were in place, she  
could approach the injured dragon without being overwhelmed by his emotions. She  
automatically began to catalog his vital signs, the way Madam Pomfrey had taught her.

His breathing was raspy, uneven, as if he could not get a decent breath into his lungs. His color was terrible, a pale yellow, indicating extreme shock and perhaps blood loss. "Flash? I'm here. What happened? Where are you hurt?"

"Quarrel . . .dragonbane . . .left shoulder . . ." was all he managed to whisper.  
Then he spasmed violently, his tail lashing out and knocking over the mailbox, his  
head slamming down against the ground so hard the earth trembled. His wings snapped open then folded back so hard she heard something snap along the membrane.

"Holy God!" Arista shouted, and ran forward to touch the dragon, her hands outlined  
with white fire.

"Be careful!" Severus warned, afraid she would be crushed by the dragon's wildly  
lashing tail or forefeet.

Arista paid him no heed, her whole being was now focused on trying to help her  
patient. _This is a major seizure from the poison. I've got to get him stabilized_, she thought frantically, laying her hands on the sleek bronze hide.

Her healing power surged through her, fighting fiercely against the lethal poison  
creeping through Fireflash's nervous system. To her horror, she realized she couldn't  
neutralize the poison on her own, it was too widespread. She could, however, stop it from affecting his brain, driving it back from there and preventing further seizures. But she could feel his heartbeat, it was erratic and staggering.

"Dad, he's going into anaphylactic shock!" she yelled to the professor, which was  
only logical, since dragons were allergic to dragonbane. "I'm going to try and reverse the effect of the poison on his lungs and heart, but I can't neutralize the poison myself. D'you know of an antidote for dragonbane?"

_Please God, let there be one_, she prayed, releasing her power in one concentrated  
burst, jumpstarting the dragon's heart.

"Yes, but it'll take me nearly an hour to brew. It's a master level antidote. Can you  
last that long?"

"I have to!" she panted, her power now focused on keeping Fireflash's heart beating  
and his breathing passages free of phlegm and open for air to get through. "I won't let him die."

"Let me call Ari," Snape said. "She's an Animal Healer, maybe she can help you."  
He turned to go back to the house.

"Wait! I need you to pull out the quarrel in his shoulder, it keeps pumping more of  
the poison into his bloodstream."

Severus moved around to the dragon's other side, spotting the wicked looking barb  
immediately. It was the size of a spear, specially designed to pierce dragonhide, no doubt. The Potions Master examined the weapon swiftly, noting in relief that the tip did not appear to be barbed. Barbed tips were nearly impossible to remove. Gritting his teeth, he set his hands on it, wishing there were a way to remove it without causing the poor dragon more agony.

"Sorry, old friend," he apologized, then yanked hard, pulling it out in one quick  
movement. Then he broke the damn thing over his knee and tossed the pieces to the ground in a fury.

There was a gush of blood, red tinged with purple that Severus knew was from the  
quarrel's poisoned tip. Fireflash groaned and shuddered, his wings fluttering against his sides. Severus did not bother to try and stop the bleeding, knowing that with this kind of puncture wound it was best to let it bleed so it could cleanse the wound a bit.

"Hang on," he said over his shoulder. "I'm going to get Ari and then I'll start  
working on the antidote." _I hope they have a halfway decent potions lab here_, he thought as he ran towards the house.

Behind him, Arista projected soothing waves of calmness, serenity and painblocked  
for all she was worth. She surrendered herself utterly to the healing trance, merging her mind and her power with that of the dying bronze dragon, for only that way could she keep Fireflash among the living.

Luckily, the dragon was strong-willed and a fighter to his talons, he refused to go  
quietly into the realm of the dead, and she did not need to spend her strength keeping his spirit tied to his body.

Her hands and arms blazed a brilliant white, like a star gone nova, as she poured  
more and more of her power into the dragon's critically injured body. Hurry, Dad. All of  
my power is keeping him alive, but only just. I can't spare anything to try and counteract the dragonbane, or repair the damage it's done to his other organs. Dragonbane was a quick acting poison, affecting mostly the nervous system, but it could also shut down other vital organs the longer it was in the dragon's bloodstream. Most dragons died within ten or twenty minutes of being shot with dragonbane, their hearts giving out and suffering massive brain hemorrhages.

That Fireflash had lasted as long as he had was a miracle in itself, a testimony to the  
iron will of a Dark Hunter, who never gave up until he caught his quarry. Arista vowed that sacrifice would not be in vain. _I won't let those damn dark wizards take another one of us, not so long as there's breath in my body._

By the time Severus reached the beach house, he found that Ari was already awake,  
peering anxiously out the front door at him. Scout pressed against her ankles, whimpering agitatedly. "Severus? What's wrong? Why are you outside in the middle of the night?"

"There's been an emergency, Ari. Fireflash has been hurt bad. Dragonbane  
poisoning. I need to brew up an antidote as quickly as possible, he's just barely alive.  
Arista's trying to Heal him still, but even her talent is just barely enough."

Ari didn't waste any time, she pushed past him and went down the steps, uncaring  
that all she had on was her blue nightgown and slippers. "I'll see if I can help her stabilize him," she called over her shoulder. "A dragon's not an easy thing to manage, even with her talent. Our potions lab's in the basement, Sev. Use anything you need."

Severus continued on into the house and upstairs to the guest bedroom where Drake  
slept. He shook the boy's shoulder sharply. "Lockwood! Wake up! I need you."

"Huh?" Drake stirred, then opened his eyes, focusing blearily on his teacher.  
"Professor? Is it morning yet?"

"No, but I need you to come and help me brew an antidote," Snape told him  
impatiently. "Now get up!"

Drake shoved himself to a sitting position, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes.  
_He needs MY help? Must be serious_. "Is someone sick, sir?"

"A bronze dragon. He'll die unless you move your ass, Lockwood!" Severus  
growled, grabbing Drake's clothes off the floor and throwing them at him. "Get dressed. Then go out to the herb garden and pick me double handfuls of foxglove, marigold, tansy, mandrake and rowan twigs. Meet me in the lab in the basement." He was already turning away, he had no fear Drake wouldn't remember the ingredients he'd rattled off, the boy had one of the best aural memories in Hogwarts.

Drake swiftly pulled on his clothes and sneakers, then hurried downstairs to gather  
the herbs. He mentally reviewed the types of herbs and lit up his wand with the Lumos spell so he could see what he was picking. He snatched up a large gathering basket, a pair of shears, and earmuffs, which were lying just beside the entrance to the garden. He jammed the earmuffs on his head, protection against the screams of the mandrake, then worked as quickly as he could to get all of the herbs on the Potions Master's list. When he had gathered all of them, he raced back inside, trying frantically to recall where the basement was located. "Professor?"

"Down here, Lockwood. Make a right past the laundry room," Snape called.

Severus winced as the boy sprang down what sounded like six stairs at once, making no attempt to be silent the way he usually did. The Potions Master had already started water heating in the biggest cauldron he could find, and was slowly adding some ground silverthorn roots to it. He wished that dragonbane reacted to a bezoar stone, but unfortunately, the poison was one of the few the stone's magic wasn't proof against. Damn insidious lethal stuff! He cursed silently, stirring the mixture with a long handled wooden stirrer.

"Your herbs, sir," Drake held out the basket, panting slightly.

"Pay attention, Lockwood. I need you to chop up five tablespoons of foxglove, no  
more. Grind up a cup of marigold blossoms, a half cup of tansy, stems, leaves, and all. Peel  
off the bark from the rowan and toss it in here. Then add the mandrake. Got all that?"

"Yes, sir," Drake immediately set to work.

Meanwhile, Severus fetched the rest of the essential oils and other ingredients he  
needed and began measuring them and adding them to the cauldron. One of the reasons the antidote was so difficult to brew was because of its many ingredients, but the other was because of its preciseness, a drop too much or a grain too little and the antidote wouldn't work. It was now that Snape's exacting perfectionist skills stood him in good stead, he measured and poured with an expert hand, calculating the amounts with a master's deft precision. He double-checked Lockwood's amounts before adding them to the bubbling elixir. It had now turned a silvery color and was emitting a soothing scent.

"Is it ready?" Drake asked, peering at the swirling liquid.

"Not yet. It has to steep for fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen **minutes**?" he cried in dismay. "B-but, sir, the poor dragon's dying!"

"I _know_, Lockwood," the professor snapped. "But I can't rush this, it has to steep for  
the time allotted otherwise it'll be ineffective." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. It was only then that Drake realized his teacher was still wearing pajamas and a sleeping robe. The sight might have been comical if the situation had not been so dire. "Arista and Ari are just going to have to find a way to keep him breathing until this is done. And I'll need another batch, this one won't be enough, not from the amount still on the quarrel I pulled out of him."

"Who shot him, sir?" Drake asked before he could think better of it.

Snape fixed him with a withering look. "How the hell should I know? Do I look like  
a bloody Seer? Some damned necromancer. If he survives, you can ask him. Now go and get more herbs, these aren't enough. Move!" he barked.

"Yes, sir," Drake muttered, blushing and ran back up the stairs.

Severus continued stirring the elixir, making sure it only simmered and did not burn.  
The fifteen minutes crept by agonizingly, but at last the antidote was done and he could decant it into a huge beaker.

"Here. Take it out to Arista, they're in the front yard. Tell her to give him half by  
mouth and put the rest on the wound itself. It's a contact antidote, he doesn't need to  
swallow it." Severus instructed handing the beaker to his student. "I'll make up another batch in the meantime."

Drake left at a swift run, the precious elixir clutched tightly in his hands.

He found Arista easily enough, he would have had to have been blind to miss the  
dragon lying on the lawn with the glowing girl standing next to him, still battling fiercely for Fireflash's life. Ari was holding hands with her, lending Arista strength and her own brand of magical assistance.

Drake, not wanting to break their concentration, followed Snape's directions himself,  
pouring half the silvery elixir on the dragon's tongue, which was lolling half out of his jaws. Then he moved around, finding the bloody hole in Fireflash's shoulder and pouring the rest on it. Immediately, the blackened edges of the wound cleared up and began to heal.

"Arista! I've given him the first dose of the antidote," he told her, noting that the  
dragon's color, which had been a horrible sickly yellow, was now becoming a bit brighter. "I think it's working."

"It is," came Arista's voice from the other side of the dragon. "But it's not enough  
to counteract all the poison."

Just then the dragon's back arched in an uncontrolled muscle spasm and the two  
wizards were thrown to the ground violently.

"Dammit!" Ari swore, picking herself up. "We need something to tie him down with  
until those tremors stop."

"Kudzu vines ought to do it," came Leo's voice from behind them. The earth wizard  
had woken to find his wife gone and seeing something glowing outside, had gone to  
investigate. With a sweep of his arm, Leo summoned kudzu vines as thick as a man's body. They wrapped securely about the bronze, holding him fast so he couldn't injure himself or the wizards helping him. Only the dragon's mouth was left unbound, since there was still more antidote to be administered.

Arista climbed to her feet, then went and put her hands on the dragon again, feeling  
his pulse and other vital signs. Despite the antidote, the bronze's pulse was still weak and thready and his breathing was still shallow. "We need more of the antidote, Drake! ASAP."

"Your dad's making it," he informed her.

She heaved a sigh of relief, then turned back to speeding the antidote already in  
Fireflash's bloodstream to where it was needed most.

Arista, help me, she could feel the dragon's fear and anxiety as if it were her own.  
_Rest easy, Flash. I won't let you die, I promise. You've got some of the antidote in  
you now and Dad's making up another dose. Hang on, buddy, and we'll beat this blasted poison together. _She sent waves of love and reassurance into his mind, beating back the fear and despair and giving the dragon the confidence he needed to endure the pain still coursing through him. Tears ran down her cheeks, because linking with the bronze left her open to his emotions, even though she did her best to shield herself. She drew upon Ari's solid magical presence, using the older woman's strength to bolster her own, which was flagging after nearly an hour of fighting to keep the dragon alive. Yet she refused to give into the threatened exhaustion. She would keep her promise, for promises should never be broken. _Nothing is impossible with magic. I healed the Longbottoms, I can heal this too_. She repeated that mantra over and over, infusing it into her very bones. Belief equals power, and power equals results.

Drake soon returned with another beaker of the antidote and administered it to the  
half-comatose beast. This time, it had a more visible effect. The dragon's heart rate leveled out and beat steadily, his breathing became normal and the bronze color came back into his scales. The wound in his shoulder healed completely. He even opened his eyes.

"Hey, why can't I move?" he snorted softly, trying to turn his head.

"Because we've bound you with kudzu, Flash," Ari answered, patting him gently.  
"It was the only way we could be sure you didn't harm yourself or us during a seizure. But we can take the vines off now."

Leo gestured, and the huge vines slithered off the dragon and vanished. "Does Sev  
need any help brewing up more of the antidote?" he looked at Drake questioningly.

"I don't know. Here he comes now, you could ask him," he pointed towards the tall  
figure of the professor, who was walking towards them, a full cauldron of the antidote  
floating behind him.

"I made a double batch," he said as he came up to them, the cauldron settling gently  
beside Fireflash's head. "How's he doing?"

"Better than I was an hour ago, Sev," Fireflash responded, raising his head weakly  
and looking the Potions Master in the face. "I still feel terrible though."

"No wonder. Dragonbane's no joke as a poison," Ari said quietly. "It's one of the  
most virulent poisons on the planet. You'll probably need the antidote administered for at least two to three hours more and suffer nervous tremors and weakness for a day or two afterwards, maybe longer. Sometimes the side effects can linger for months, even after you've been cured."

Fireflash sighed. "Guess I can't complain. I would have been dead if not for Arista  
and you, Sev. Actually, I owe all of you a life debt," he nodded at Ari, Drake, and Leo.

"Why don't you take this next dose and see how you feel?" Severus suggested. "If  
you can walk afterwards, you might want to consider moving into the backyard, so no  
Muggles can see you."

"Good idea, especially since I'm not up to making them forget about me," the dragon  
said, then bent his head and slurped up the contents of the cauldron. He ran the edges of his pinkish red tongue about his teeth, getting every last drop of the potion. "This stuff tastes pretty good, Sev."

"Glad to hear it, since you'll be drinking a lot more of it," the Potions Master said.

Arista removed her hands from the dragon's neck and drew away, her head drooping  
with weariness. "There's enough antidote in you now to neutralize the poison," she said softly. "Can you walk at all, Flash?"

"Let's see," Fireflash extended a foot, then another, and slowly heaved himself  
upwards. His whole body trembled and he dug all four sets of talons into the earth. He had never in all of his centuries felt so weak, so utterly drained of strength. "I'm weaker than a newborn kitten, blast it!" he muttered to himself in dragonspeech, disgusted at his weakness. He hated feeling so utterly vulnerable, especially in front of wizards, even though they were his friends.

He lifted a forefoot, setting it down lightly, but even that much movement cost him.

Arista, aware of the immense effort the dragon was making, murmured  
exasperatedly, "Ask for help, you stubborn beast!" and gestured sharply, casting a levitation spell.

But her own powers were nearly depleted and her spell barely lifted the dragon off  
the ground.

Severus pointed his wand and spoke the same spell, catching on to what she had  
done, and this time the dragon found himself floating gently in midair. Fireflash bared his teeth in a grimace of annoyance, making Drake step back in alarm.  
But the Potions Master was unfazed and simply floated the dragon along in his wake,  
ignoring the gigantic beast's grumbling about being treated like a bunch of cargo. They reached the backyard and Severus settled the dragon in the middle of the lawn, which was barely large enough to accommodate him if he curled in a ball.

"I know it's a bit cramped," Ari began. "But at least here no one will be able to see  
you, Flash."

"It's fine, Ari. Better than being gawked at by the neighbors," the dragon answered,  
resting his snout on his forefeet, like a cat.

Severus vanished the cauldron in the front yard back into the lab with a flick of his  
wand, then turned to Leo and said, "If I'm to make more of the antidote, I'm going to need more herbs than you've currently got growing, Leo. Any chance you could speed grow some more?"

The earth mage nodded. "Figured so. It'll be no problem. Just tell me what you  
need." He moved off towards the garden, rolling up his sleeves as he did so.

"Go with him, Drake," Severus ordered. "You know what I need by now."

His apprentice followed the earth mage without a word, catching up to the older man  
in a few strides.

Fireflash's eyes were beginning to droop, and he settled his head on his forefeet and  
slept, his sides rising and falling rhythmically. Ari nodded in approval. "Sleep. That's the greatest healer. He should sleep for a good two hours or more, long enough for you to brew more antidote, Severus." She whispered something and a mist arose from the ground and surrounded the yard, making it impossible for anyone to see through it. "That should take care of any of our nosy neighbors and now, I'll go and erase any signs of dragon tracks from the front lawn."

She moved off towards the front of the house, leaving Arista and Severus with the  
sleeping dragon.

The Potions Master was looking at his daughter in concern. She was pale and wan  
and looked on the verge of collapse. "You need to go to bed right now," he began softly. "You're out on your feet."

"I don't feel so good," she said, then went to her knees in the grass, throwing up  
convulsively.

Severus stared at her in alarm. Then he moved to her side, holding her head. "Good  
God, why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"I wasn't," she gasped. "Until now." She shivered, sweating and cold at the same  
time.

Ari returned and hurried over to them. "Oh, you poor thing! You've got reaction  
sickness," she said, conjuring a cold towel and laying it on the back of Arista's neck.

"She's got what?" Severus asked, brushing her hair back from her forehead.

"Sympathetic reaction sickness," Ari answered. "It happens when empaths do a  
prolonged healing on someone."

"But she didn't get sick like this when she healed the Longbottoms," the Potions  
Master said, helping his child up and wiping her face gently with the towel.

"That was a mental healing, not a physical one," Ari said calmly. "Physical healings  
are always worse for an empath the first time you do one. You end up absorbing the brunt of your patient's pain, and it shocks your system, making you nauseous. It'll pass in a few moments." She patted Arista's shoulder gently. "The first major surgery I ever did on a hippogriff made me sick as a dog afterwards, and I don't have a full empathic gift like yours, sweetie."

"Sorry," Arista said, feeling wretchedly embarrassed. Her head was beginning to  
throb and she felt like bursting into tears, though she refused to give into the temptation. She was not a baby, to bawl on her father's shoulder like Marietta.

"Not your fault," her father said, then he picked her up and began carrying her inside  
the house.

"I can walk," she protested, though she knew she couldn't, her legs were like rubber  
strands of spaghetti.

Her father snorted in disbelief and continued walking, straight up the stairs to her  
bedroom. There he set her on a chair, cleaned the front of her nightclothes with a wave of his wand, conjured her a cup of water to rinse her mouth, and tugged off her slippers.

"How do you feel?"

"My head hurts and I need to sleep," she said honestly.

"Bed for you then," he said, and scooped her up and tucked her in bed. "I'll be back  
in a few minutes with something to settle your stomach and your head." He gave her a smile before departing. "You did well, my Arista. Better than any student Healer ever could've."

"Thanks, Dad," she smiled back at him and closed her eyes, trying to sleep.

But the aching in her head would not let her and she found herself remembering bits  
and pieces of Fireflash's experience just before he was struck down by the quarrel. He had been flying, not all that high, tracking someone, but the picture of his quarry was fuzzy, and all she could make out was a vague male shape. Her next impression was of something flying at her out of nowhere, and she rolled and ducked, avoiding the first quarrel shot at her. But there was more than one in the ambush, and the second quarrel took her in the shoulder in a searing burst of pain.

She came out of the memory with a gasp, feeling her own shoulder throb with  
sympathetic agony. Tears filled her eyes and she buried her face in the pillow, sobbing soundlessly for a moment. Abruptly, she shoved the terrible memory away, regaining control over herself. _That's Fireflash's memory, not yours. You were never shot with a quarrel laced with dragonbane, Arista Snape_, she reminded herself sternly.

She lifted her head from the pillow, wiping away the tears hastily. The last thing she  
needed was for her father to come in here and see her crying like a baby over a memory not even her own. He was too overprotective of her as it was. Fireflash was the one who needed him most right now, not her, and she wasn't about to distract him more than she could help.

She rubbed her fingers over her temples, trying to relieve some of the tension across  
her forehead. It felt like a giant was beating the inside of her skull with an extra hard mallet. _A common side effect of overusing your powers, Snape_, her mind automatically analyzed her symptoms. _A few hours straight of uninterrupted sleep and a headache remedy will cure you. _She heard her father's light step in the hallway and opened her eyes. He entered the room carrying a glass and a mug with a spoon. In the glass was a straw and some kind of clear liquid that she knew wasn't water.

He set the glass down on the nightstand, and stirred whatever was in the mug with  
the spoon. "Sit up a little, okay?" he said, helping her prop herself up on the pillows.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the mug warily.

"Anti-nausea potion," he answered. "Tastes like peppermint ice cream." He held out  
the spoon, it was filled with a pink gelatin.

She took the medicine obediently. To her relief, it really did taste like peppermint  
ice cream, and she could feel it working almost immediately, making the churning in her belly cease.

Severus fed her three more spoonfuls of the pink potion, until the cup was empty.  
"Better?"

"Much." She held out her hand for the glass. "Headache Remedy?"

He nodded. "Drink it slow." He handed her the glass.

She sipped the clear potion slowly, it fizzed a bit on her tongue, tasting like sugared  
tea mixed with a dash of cherry juice.

He waited until she had finished the entire dose before vanishing the items to the  
kitchen. "Get some rest, sweetheart," he ordered quietly. "I'll make sure Fireflash gets the antidote when he needs it."

"I know," she said sleepily, for the headache remedy also contained a sleeping draft.  
"Dad . . .he was ambushed . . .I saw it in his head when I linked with him . . .there were two people involved . . .armed with dragonbane tipped quarrels . . .that was how they shot him . . ."

Severus muttered a swear word under his breath, then said, "We'll worry about that  
later. You get some sleep and let me worry about the dragon, young lady."

She acquiesced, closing her eyes and falling asleep. He kissed her lightly on the  
forehead before departing the room. Her words had shocked him more than he wanted to admit. Two people involved, not one. That meant a conspiracy, which was never a good thing. Dragonbane was a costly substance, illegal, and not one that was easy to obtain. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach that the attack on Fireflash had not been based solely on revenge, because the dragon was a Dark Hunter trying to bring in a criminal. No, this was something more deadly, more dangerous than mere revenge.

Centuries ago, the bronze dragons had been targets of wizards belonging to the  
Dragonslayer Guild, an organization dedicated to exterminating all the dragons on the earth. They had been betrayed by the very wizards they had trusted, and been forced to abandon their lairs in Europe and Britain and return to America, where they were safe from dragonslayers, hidden away in the vast forests and mountains of the New World.

They had an uneasy truce with the American Magical Association, working with the  
Dark Hunters to bring in criminals and occasionally assisting with ancient magical  
knowledge as well. Because of the bronze dragons' influence, the AMA had banned the use of dragon blood, scales, and talons in their potion making, using substitutes instead. Anyone caught breaking those rules would be subjected to a hefty fine and perhaps a short term in Inferno, the American wizard prison.

Yet it seemed that some wizards were willing to disregard those rules and dare to  
hunt a bronze dragon like a deer, the way the dragonslayers had done in the past.

Severus felt a cold chill skitter down his backbone and he clutched his robe tighter  
as he made his way back down to the basement to begin brewing another cauldron of antidote. _God help us all if this was no isolated incident. But somehow I have a bad feeling it wasn't, and whoever is behind this wants to bring back the old ways, and make the Dragonslayer Guild live again, granting it free reign to slaughter and destroy, starting a war which could doom both us and the dragons_.


	10. Return of the Dragonslayers

**Return of the Dragonslayers**

**This chapter has some dragon history in it, told by everyone's favorite dragon, Fireflash!**

While his daughter and Fireflash slumbered, wandering the realm of dreams, the Potions Master brewed triple doses of the dragonbane antidote with the help of Leo and Drake. He later sent Drake out to the backyard to take over watching the dragon from Ari. Ari promptly returned to the house and began making breakfast for them, insisting they eat something, though no one was particularly hungry.

Afterwards, Leo suggested his wife take a nap, for she too had spent a good deal of her magic trying to revive Fireflash and she was not as young as her granddaughter. Ari acquiesced without much of an argument, much to Leo's surprise, making him concerned that she had spent more than she could afford. But Ari showed no signs of the utter exhaustion that accompanied overspending your powers. She was merely tired from being woken up at the crack of dawn and then using her magic relentlessly to combat one of the most insidious poisons known to mankind.

Thanks to Leo's skill with plants and growth charms, Severus now did not need to fear running out of the necessary ingredients for the antidote anytime soon, since the herbs formed the basis of the potion. Leo observed the Potions Master carefully as he mixed the second batch of the antidote, and was soon impressed by the other man's expertise. _Amelia was right. He really is a gifted wizard, and not just in Potions. He's a combat master to rival the best in the Dark Hunter Academy, or else I'm no earth mage. Thank God he was here when Flash was struck down, because I would never have been able to make this potion in time to save him. And losing a bronze dragon would have been a tragedy we could ill afford. _

He said as much to the professor, who replied quietly that the real miracle was how the bronze had managed to get here after being shot with the quarrel at all. "He has tremendous strength of will, Leo. Dragonbane's not a slow poison, it reacts quickly once it enters a dragon's bloodstream, attacking the nervous system in moments. Yet somehow, Flash managed to fly here before being overwhelmed by the poison. That takes an incredible act of will and determination that's almost unheard of. When he called Arista, he was nearly gone, but he reached her nevertheless." There was undisguised admiration in his tone. "Fireflash is an amazing creature, even for a bronze dragon."

"He is indeed. I was always glad when Amelia was partnered with him, because I knew he'd protect her better than any other Hunter on the force. There are few people in the world brave to challenge a bronze dragon."

"Yet they didn't partner her with him when she went to hunt down Nightshade," Severus said quietly. Livia Nightshade had been the fugitive necromancer his wife had been hunting and who had later killed her.

"No," Leo said sadly. "And I still don't understand why not. Instead they sent Flash off on a different mission, then went to Amelia and ordered her to track Nightshade. Stupid of them really. But maybe they figured that after Slade, Amelia was better off on her own. That's one mistake that I'll never forgive them for."

"Me either," Severus said softly. _Any more than I can ever forgive myself for not being at her side. We should have been together, Nightshade couldn't have defeated us both. I will always regret not insisting I go along to help her, that she died alone facing her worst enemy, my name the last word she ever spoke. _  
Ever since Nightshade had confessed that bit of information to him last summer, before she herself had been killed, he had felt the weight of guilt and regret settle upon him like a sledgehammer. Even though the logical part of his mind insisted there was no way he could have known the outcome of Amelia's battle with Nightshade, much less been on hand to prevent it, being over five hundred miles away across an ocean, the guilt lingered. Snape feared it always would, illogical as that was.

Then he shook his head and returned to focusing on the task at hand. Dwelling on what might have been was pointless, today was what mattered. At least he had been on hand to save his friend Fireflash, who was perhaps the only other being on the planet to share those precious memories of his time with his beloved Amelia. Like Amelia, the bronze had seen the best in him, and had been a friend to him when he was certain he didn't deserve one. In a way, what he'd done here this morning helped repay the dragon's trust in him, though he knew it was not something Fireflash would have ever requested from him.

"I think three batches are enough for now," Snape declared, stretching to relieve muscles cramped from bending over a cauldron stirring for over three hours. "How long has he been asleep?"

Leo checked his watch. "Ah, close to two hours. Is it time for another dose then?"

Snape nodded. "It's a little early, but that shouldn't matter too much. Better too early than too late." He waved his wand over one of the full cauldrons of the antidote and transported it out to where the bronze slept.

It appeared beside Drake's feet with a loud pop, startling the apprentice so badly he almost fell over. But the dark haired boy soon recovered, realizing immediately that it was time for the dragon's next dose, for he'd often served as his father's veterinary assistant. "Fireflash, wake up!" he called to the big lizard, practically shouting into one of the bronze's ears.

The dragon twitched, yawned, and opened his eyes. "Hey, kid, tone it down, will ya? I'm trying to rest here."

"Sorry, but it's time for more medicine," Drake said apologetically, just as Severus emerged from the house with Leo.

"Already? I just closed my eyes," Fireflash grumbled.

"You've been asleep for two hours," Severus told the bronze. "Now quit complaining and just take your medicine, all right?"

"Watch it, Sev. I'm not your son," the bronze snorted peevishly. Then he dipped his head and drank, emptying the cauldron in a few minutes. "Happy now?"

"How do you feel?" Snape inquired, noting that the antidote seemed to revive the dragon almost immediately.

"About ten feet further from death's door. I need about twenty hours of sleep. Every damn muscle in my body aches."

"That's an after effect of the poisoning," Leo stated. "You should feel better by tomorrow."

The dragon nodded, then settled his head on his forefeet again and fell back asleep.

Drake was yawning slightly, though he tried not to show it. Leo saw and said, "Why don't you go and take a nap, son? I can watch Flash for the time being. I got more sleep than all of you."

Drake glanced at his professor. "Is that okay with you, sir?"

Snape nodded. "You're excused, Lockwood. Go to bed."

The boy didn't need to be told twice. He rose and made his way back to the house, grateful for once about being ordered to bed.

"You ought to get a bit of rest yourself, Severus," Leo said then, noting the dark circles under the other wizard's eyes.

For one moment, Snape considered arguing, not wanting to admit he too was tired, but then he though better of it and agreed. "Maybe I will sleep for an hour or so."

"I'll hold down the fort," Leo said, then conjured a lawn chair over and sat upon it with his feet up and a magazine in one hand. "Catch up on the new species in the _Magical Plants and Herbs_ periodical."

Severus left him happily perusing his magazine and Apparated right into his bedroom, where he tossed his robe on a chair and fell into bed, sleep hitting him like a rock.

He was awakened an hour and a half later by Arista screaming. He had never heard her scream like that, one long pain-filled howl of denial. It brought him awake in a flash, pausing only to shrug into his shirt and snatch his wand from the nightstand before he bolted out the door.

He charged into Arista's room, wand leveled, ready to blast someone. But all he saw was his child tangled up in the bedcovers, her face pale as a ghost's, whimpering and moaning like one possessed.

He was at her side in an instant, one hand reaching out to feel her forehead. It was wet with sweat, but not feverish. "No! You _can't_ be dead!" she sobbed.

He shook her shoulder. "Arista! Wake up, you're having a nightmare," he called softly.

Her eyes opened, but they were dazed and confused. "Dad? How did he die? I thought I saved him, I really did!" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Arista, you were dreaming," he said, hugging her to him. "None of it's real."

"But I saw Fireflash **die**!" she sobbed, clinging to him. "The dragonbane, it went into his heart and then he died. I **felt** it!"

"Hush. That was only a dream, child. Fireflash is alive, he's right outside, sleeping," Severus soothed, cradling the sobbing girl on his lap, rubbing her back much as he had Marietta's that Fourth of July night.

Drake burst into the room, his hair tousled from sleep. "Professor? What's going on?"

"Just a nightmare, Drake," he answered. "Do me a favor, go and check on Fireflash. Arista dreamed he died and it's really upset her."

Drake took one look at his friend and did as he was told, thinking, _Hell, that must have been some terrible nightmare. I've never seen her cry like that before. Come to think of it, I've never seen her cry at all. Arista's always been brave as a bronze dragon_.

He returned some five minutes later, bearing the good news. Fireflash was doing much better, though he was still asleep, he was definitely not dead.

By that time Arista had stopped crying, much of her initial terror and despair abated by her father's reassuring words and his comforting presence. She allowed herself to be held a moment more, then drew away, wiping her face with a tissue.

"You all right now?" he asked, peering at her worriedly.

"Yeah." Now that the initial horror was past, she felt herself flush in embarrassment. _I'm such an idiot, having a stupid nightmare and then waking him up screaming like a baby. _But the dream had not felt like a dream. "It felt real," she murmured, half to herself.

"What?"

"I said it felt real," she repeated slowly. "The dream I had, it felt like—like a vision rather than a dream. But I know I'm no Seer."

"You've been under a lot of stress. Sometimes that can cause your mind to imagine things," her father said.

"I'm not crazy, Dad," she snapped indignantly.

"I never said you were," he answered. "But you absorbed a lot of Fireflash's emotions when you healed him, and maybe this nightmare you had is a result of that."

"I don't know. What I dreamed . . .I saw him flying, then a quarrel came and struck him down. I felt him fall, then he landed on the ground, and he never got up again. The dragonbane on the quarrel killed him within minutes. I felt him die, but just before he did, he called out to me." She shivered suddenly, a chill racing down her spine. Severus draped an arm about her comfortingly. "He said, _Avenge me. Find the murderers who broke the pact and avenge me. _Then I woke up. I've never dreamed anything like that before. What can it mean?"

"That you need a stronger Sleeping Draft," the Potions Master answered.

"Dad, I'm serious."

"So am I. I think you need a decent night's sleep rather than a dream interpreter."

Arista frowned, certain she was missing something. "No, that's not it. I know I need sleep, but what if the dream wasn't a warning of something to come, but of something that had already happened? A memory rather than a dream?"

Snape shook his head. "I think you're overanalyzing this, my girl. You've been listening to Trelawney, attributing sense to her mystical babble. Dreams that foretell the future or hold the key to your past," he mocked softly. "Sometimes dreams are just that—dreams."

"And sometimes they aren't." Arista argued softly. "Dad, I know you think she's nuts, and half the time you're probably right, she does contradict herself, but she _has_ to be right about something. She's predicted true at least twice . . ."

"Twice in her whole career of fourteen years," the Potions Master snorted derisively. "Not a very impressive track record. I don't trust prophecies, Arista. They're vague, ambiguous, and they can lead one to assume things that may or may not be true. That's why I never rely on them. They can destroy as well as save, depending on how you interpret them. I make my own future and prophecy be hanged."

"But we're not talking prophecies here." She huffed exasperatedly. "My dream wasn't a prediction of the future, but of the past."

"A past that never happened, because Fireflash never died," Drake pointed out, coming into the room and catching the last of the conversation. "He's fine, sir. Sleeping like a baby. Leo says he never stirred once all afternoon and his vitals are all normal."

"There, you see? Nothing to worry about," Severus gestured to Drake. "If you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to your friend, huh?"

Arista sighed. "That's great, but I'm missing something. The dream didn't feel like a warning of what might be, but of something that had already happened. That's why I was so confused when I woke up. Because what I dreamed didn't match with what I already knew to be true. But it felt too real for me not to believe it, that's what scared me to death." She put the tip of her tongue between her teeth, the way she usually did when she was thinking hard. "A memory rather than a dream," she muttered, ignoring Snape's eye roll at Drake. "But not** my** memory. That's it!"

"Huh? You've just lost me," Drake said, puzzled. "How can you have a memory that's not yours?"

"Because I linked with Fireflash when I healed him," Arista replied. "And in doing so I absorbed his memories as well as his emotions. It happens sometimes, can't be helped, especially when I'm projecting strongly. I leave myself open in return, and his memories become entwined with my own. That's what happened here, I'm sure of it. Before I fell asleep, I was remembering how it had felt to be shot with a quarrel, only I never was. And the time was different." She closed her eyes, picturing the two memories side by side. "Flash was shot sometime in the morning, the sun wasn't even up above the horizon. But in the dream, it was afternoon, close to sunset, because the shadows were stretching out along the ground where the dragon had fallen."

"But how could Fireflash remember something that never actually happened?" Drake frowned. "Arista, that's impossible."

"No, it isn't. Because he wasn't remembering it happening to him," she gasped, hitting herself in the forehead. "I get it now."

"Oh, good. Because it sounds like you're talking yourself in circles," Snape said tartly. "Explain to the rest of us unenlightened mortals, won't you?"

"It's simple. Bronzes have a limited telepathic ability, they can send and receive thoughts and emotions from each other. I learned that in my Magical Creatures class with Jenna a long time ago. It's how they relay information to each other so quickly. Bronzes in the same clan are especially close, sharing thoughts and emotions frequently. Especially under times of great stress, such as dying from a poisoned quarrel."

"But we just **told** you—Fireflash isn't dead!" Drake cried exasperatedly.

"I _know_ that, Lockwood! That's where I made my mistake. I assumed the dragon in my dream memory was Fireflash. Only it wasn't. It was another dragon, one Fireflash knew very well. _He_ was the one who died, that's what Fireflash remembered, that's what he projected to me when I was trying to save him. He was terrified out of his mind when I touched him with my empathy, because he knew how that other dragon had died, he'd shared the other one's last moments. Dragonbane kills swiftly unless you've got a healer on hand to arrest the poison and another to brew up an antidote," Arista recited sadly. "That other dragon never had a chance, he was alone, far from help, and he'd been shot directly in the heart. All he could do was project his dying thoughts to his family. That's what Fireflash remembered. And so did I."

Drake was looking more puzzled than ever. "But how can you remember what never happened to you?"

"Pay attention, Drake!" she snapped, sounding so much like her father that Severus raised and eyebrow. " It was a shared memory, and probably not one Flash ever intended to let me see. But when you're one step away from death, your emotions and thoughts aren't logical, and I received whatever was uppermost in his mind, namely that he was afraid of dying because he'd experienced this other bronze's death. He shared that memory with me, only I didn't know it until later, when I fell asleep and my mind had time to replay through all the emotions and memories I'd gotten from him."

"If you say so," Drake shrugged, still skeptical.

"I do. You'd have to be an empath to understand."

"But if you're right, and another dragon died, then this is more serious than we thought," Severus said softly. "It means somebody is hunting dragons again, trying to destroy them all the way they did all those centuries ago."

"But that's crazy, sir!" Drake exclaimed. "Who'd be nuts enough to risk their life killing dragons?"

"Somebody who believes they don't have the right to exist," Arista whispered, shivering violently. "Somebody who follows the old ways. Somebody who is a member of the Dragonslayer Guild."

"The what? The _Dragonslayer_ Guild?" Drake repeated in astonishment.

Father and daughter exchanged mutual glances of concern, ignoring him. "We have to talk to Fireflash next time he wakes up," Severus said decisively. "If a dark wizard's trying to bring back the Guild, we have some serious damn problems here."

"_I'll _say," Drake muttered irritably. "Especially when I don't understand half of what's going on."

"You think he'll talk to us about it?" Arista asked Snape. "Bronzes don't usually volunteer information about that subject voluntarily."

"He doesn't have much of a choice. Not when you already know about the other dragon dying," Severus reminded her. "Besides, he has to tell us what's going on if we're to help him. We need the whole story."

"So do I," Drake said loudly. "Would someone please tell me what's going on? What's the Dragonslayer Guild?"

"It's another name for genocide, Lockwood," the professor answered, his eyes hard. "It's the biggest Ministry cover up in centuries. Listen and remember." He then went on to explain how centuries before there was an organization called the Dragonslayer Guild, composed mainly of powerful nobles, both wizards and Muggles, who believed wholeheartedly in the extermination of an entire species—the dragon. He told Drake of the way the Dragonslayer Guild had manipulated the crowned heads of Europe, convincing them that all dragons were monsters, out to kill and eat humans, and how they also had hoards of gold piled up, stolen illegally, that needed to be recovered. He told Drake the same way Fireflash had told him, that summer day in the glen.

"Most of what they told people was lies, half-truths fabricated to excuse their own greed and bloodlust," Severus said heatedly. "The dragons, especially the bronze dragons, were becoming too powerful and influence, and they didn't like it. So they resorted to rumor and prejudice to bring them down. And the royals bought it, the bloody fools! So did the Ministry of Magic. Fireflash told me that the bronzes were betrayed by the wizards they helped, that we gave them to their enemies, telling the Guild where to find their lairs and how to kill them with dragonbane."

"Not only that, but we started using dragon parts in our potions and spells. Like the Dragon's Breath potion, which is outlawed here. It's supposed to give a wizard the ability to breathe fire like a dragon," Arista added angrily. "Its main ingredient is a bronze dragon's heart."

Drake looked sick. "No way! That's—that's disgusting."

"That was why the bronzes left Europe and Asia and returned here," she continued. "It was called the Dragon Exodus and they came back to America to save themselves. Every American apprentice wizard learns that as part of your History of Magic class. When settlers came here from Europe, the wizards with them made a pact with the bronze dragons to never hunt them and to be their friends and allies. It was kind of forced on them, actually, since the leader of the bronzes at the time, Brightwing, threatened to kill them if they didn't agree to it. So Avery Dee, who later became the founder of the American Magical Association, agreed to keep the peace, and signed the pact, making it binding under magical oath with witnesses. And so the bronzes became our friends and allies, the way they'd been before the Exodus, before the Guild put a bounty on their heads. That's why no American wizard will ever use dragon parts in our potions, only substitutes. And harming a bronze dragon deliberately will get you sent to Inferno for life. Assuming you survive the dragon, that is."

"Which doesn't happen very often, I'll bet," Drake remarked wryly.

"No. But that was one of the main causes of the American Wizard Revolution, besides the gesture versus wand debate," Arista told him. "The British wizards who came here along with the soldiers and governors of the Crown still followed the old ways, including using dragon parts in their potions. When the Americans explained that such was forbidden over here, they laughed at us and said they were entitled to practice magic any way they wanted, they were superior to any colonial wizard ever born. The Honorable Samuel Black called us "backwoods colonial conjurers with no notion of proper magical methods". He claimed we were brainwashed by the bronzes and he and his would do as they damn well pleased.

"When Brightwing learned about that, he was furious. It was all we could do to prevent him from rising and declaring war upon all of us. He called on us to uphold the Dragon Pact our ancestors swore to long ago. So we did. We told Black and his other friends what would happen if they disregarded our rules. But Black was arrogant and selfish, he thought he knew better than us, and he refused to listen. So the American wizards, under Selina Ambrosius, who was a descendant of Merlin, by the way, rebelled. Thus we fought the Wizard Revolution, not just over methods of casting but over a promise made to a bronze dragon, to never slaughter his kind as if they were mere sheep. To this day, all American wizards swear that oath, it's the second one we swear to when we sign our articles of apprenticeship, a blood oath, and no American wizard I know of would break it."

"Except someone has," Severus said gravely. "Someone here is killing off bronze dragons and trying to bring back the age of the dragonslayers."

"Trying to start a war here that no one will ever win," Arista hissed, all the blood draining from her face. "We need to stop this before it spirals out of control. I need to talk to Fireflash. I've sworn Dragon's Oath, I'm bound to uphold it. I just hope it isn't too late."

On that note, the other two wizards rose and left Arista alone to get dressed, saying they'd meet her in the backyard in half an hour. They would wake up Fireflash to administer more of the antidote and then question him about Arista's disturbing memory as well as the possibility of a rogue wizard bringing back the hated Dragonslayer Guild.

They gathered on the lawn, waiting while Severus summoned yet another cauldron full of the silvery antidote to him. Leo had returned to the house to sleep now that Severus and Arista were awake to assume watch over their patient. By silent agreement, none of the Hogwarts wizards mentioned the topic they had discussed, wanting to speak with Fireflash before they began spouting off an unproven theory to anyone, even the Amarottis.

Fireflash awoke almost instantly when Arista nudged him mentally, opening his azure eyes wide and gazing curiously about him. "Time for more potion?" he asked.

"That and we have a few questions for you too," Arista said, seating herself on the ground near the bronze's forefoot.

Fireflash blew softly at her. "Figured you might." He curled his neck and drank the potion. Once he'd finished the dose, he settled back on his haunches, his neck frills lifted slightly to catch the warmth of the midmorning sun, and said, "If you're wondering who it was that shot me, I don't know. I never saw the person shooting, he was under cover. If I had, he wouldn't be here now." The bronze's lip curled, showing ivory fangs sharper than swords.

"But there were two of them," Arista corrected softly. "You were ambushed, weren't you?"

The bronze's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that, Arista?"

"When I linked with you before, to keep you alive, I felt and saw what happened to you. There were two people attacking you, not one. The first quarrel you dodged, but you didn't see the second until it was too late."

"You're right," Fireflash admitted reluctantly. "It was an ambush, and one that I never saw coming, more fool I." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "As many years as I've been a Hunter, I should have been more aware. And know better than to think I can hide my emotions from an empath too."

"Nobody's perfect, Flash. Not even a bronze dragon," Severus said gently. "Go on, Arista. Tell him of your dream or whatever."

"After I healed you, I went to sleep," Arista began. "I dreamed you had died from a dragonbane laced quarrel. Except when I woke up and had time to recall it, I realized the dragon in my memory wasn't you, Flash. It was another one, one that you'd shared a death imprint with." She gazed up into the dragon's azure eyes. "Who was he, Flash? And who in God's name is hunting your people again?"

Fireflash looked down at the diminutive Healer with a rueful grin. "Can't have secrets at all around a blasted empath, can I?"

"Not one who's brought you back from the brink of death, no," Arista said. "I'm sorry if I saw something I shouldn't, but it wasn't done on purpose."

"I know. But what you saw is, uh, classified information, sweetie. Not to be discussed unless you're a Hunter or a member of my clan. However, seeing as I owe all of you a life debt, I can make an exception." He tapped a talon against his chin thoughtfully. "On one condition. Both of you," he pointed his talon at Severus and Drake. "Have to swear Dragon's Oath. Only then can I reveal the truth of what I saw to you. Are you willing to do that?"

"It's a blood oath, isn't it?" Snape clarified. "What does it entail?"

"Your promise to never betray us to our ancient enemies, those wizards who believe in dragonslaying. And also to offer your aid to one of us if there is need and to protect us if necessary, even against one of your own. Not something to take lightly, Sev."

"And what do you offer us in return?"

"The same. Like you, we are also bound by our terms. It works both ways." Fireflash answered. "We don't do things by half measures. All American wizards swear Dragon's Oath upon signing their articles of apprenticeship. It had to be that way, for our safety as well as yours. Do you agree?"

Severus nodded. "I have no objection to it." He turned to Drake. "How about you, Lockwood?"

"I'll do it," Drake answered, then asked, "Do I have to open up a vein or something? Because I don't know if I can do that to myself."

Fireflash snickered. "Of course not, what d'you think I am, a vampire? All a blood oath involves is a drop of blood, kid, given freely by the oathtaker, after making his pledge." He rubbed the side of his talon against his front tooth, scraping off a narrow piece of his nail. "Here. You can stick yourself with this, Sev. It's so sharp you won't even feel it." He handed the paring to the Potions Master, it was about the size of a good butcher knife, needle-sharp and golden colored.

"Ready?" the dragon asked. Severus nodded. "Repeat after me, then prick your finger. I, Severus Snape, do solemnly swear that I shall protect and defend bronze dragons from all who seek to do them harm, and give any bronze aid if it is in my power to do so. I name myself ally and friend to them for as long as I shall live, by my magic and my blood, I so swear."

Snape repeated the words quickly, then jabbed the ball of his thumb with the dragon talon paring. Fireflash was right, the paring was so sharp he didn't even feel it enter his skin. A single drop of blood welled up on his finger and he held out his hand to the dragon.

Fireflash's tongue flicked out and licked the drop of blood, murmuring, "I, Fireflash, son of Sardonyx and Citrine, of the Brightwings clan, have heard and witnessed your oath, Severus Snape. I swear the same in return, for myself and all of my kind, until the end of all things. Welcome, Potions Master, to the Society of Bronze."

When Severus drew his hand back, the place where he had pricked his finger was healed over. Fireflash smirked. "Dragon saliva. It seals most wounds."

"Your turn, Lockwood," the professor stated. "Give me your hand."

Drake gulped softly, then held out his hand. His teacher took his wrist firmly, poising the ultra sharp dragon paring above the boy's thumb.

Drake looked away swiftly, then said, "Okay. Let's do it then. I, Drake Robert Lockwood, do solemnly swear . . ." he repeated the oath word for word after the bronze, not stuttering at all, though Arista knew he was a little nervous. He winced slightly when Snape pricked his finger, though it didn't really hurt, then held out his hand for Fireflash to accept his oath.

Once the oaths were taken, Fireflash tossed the paring up into the air and breathed a tiny jet of flame at it, burning the fragment to ash. "So no one can use sympathetic magic against you," he explained at Drake's puzzled look. "Like possession or voodoo, know what I mean?"

"But isn't that forbidden?"

"Sure it is, but that don't mean it doesn't get practiced. Especially down south in the bayous of Louisiana. Got a thriving cult of witch doctors and voodoo queens down there. Most are white users, but there are the occasional black ones too, and sometimes it's hard to tell which is which." The dragon shrugged one massive shoulder. "But that's not what concerns you." He turned back to Arista. "To answer your question, Miss Snape, the dragon whom you saw die in your dream was my cousin, the great Aventurine. He was a retired Dark Hunter, and his loss will be sorely felt by all of us."

"Aventurine? Not the same one with the statue in the Octagonal Garden?" Arista cried in dismay.

"The same," Fireflash dipped his head sadly. "His like will not be seen again. As a young dragonet, he was my teacher and my role model. He was the reason I became a Dark Hunter. I was out hunting his murderer when I was struck down."

"I'm so sorry, Flash," Arista murmured, blinking back tears. "Does this have anything to do with the return of the Dragonslayer Guild?"

"You're too quick by half, girl," the bronze said. "Like your mother. All of my clan shared Aventurine's deathsong, as is proper among us. But to me he sent an image of the one who struck him down, making me his Avenger. That's what we do when one of us is murdered, which hasn't happened in over two hundred years, not since the Revolution. The one who receives the image of the murderer is oathbound to avenge his relative's death. Aventurine knew only I would be able to handle it, that was why he chose me. A Hunter to avenge a Hunter's death." Fireflash bared his fangs, his voice a low rumble of fury that made the wizards beside him shiver in instinctive fear. "Only the image he sent me wasn't very clear, he only caught a glimpse of the wizard before he died."

"Can you describe him, Flash?" Severus asked.

"Yes. He was a young man, around his mid-twenties, I think. Not too tall, with sandy hair and rather stocky. Dark eyes and wearing a hooded red cloak and carrying a dragon-calibrated crossbow. Not much to go on, I know. But Aventurine didn't have time to ID the bastard before he died, the quarrel was too close to his heart, and he went down almost instantly. He knew what he was doing, the scum. He'd hunted wyverns or something like us before, to be so accurate."

"Is this the only death you've had so far?" Severus asked, looking at the bronze shrewdly.

Fireflash shook his head. "No, though I wish like hell it was. Aventurine was the fifth attack in about three months. It has to be a group of them, because those who managed to identify their attackers before they died have all described different people."

"Or it could be the same person using Polyjuice potion," Drake interjected.

"Hmm. Yes, that's a possibility. But I'm inclined to think otherwise. All five victims were killed with dragonbane, but using different methods. Starsong was stabbed with a lance. Brightfang was sprayed with dragonbane laced water as he drank from a forest pool. Amber was one of the few who actually fought her attacker before she succumbed to his dragonbane tipped darts. And the one who killed her was older than the man who nailed Aventurine, somewhere in his late fifties with graying hair and a scar on his left cheek. Mirrordusk didn't even see his attacker, the poor kid was landing to hunt something for breakfast and stepped on the trap they had planted. Died stabbed by a dozen damn spears. That suggest to me that whoever is behind this has studied methods used by the Dragonslayer Guild."

"Where would they find such information?" Arista asked softly.  
"Over in Europe and Britain, probably. The records of the Guild were kept there," Fireflash said. "What's worse, is that all five bodies were desecrated."

"What do you mean, sir?" Drake frowned. "Desecrated how?"

"All five hearts are missing. Stolen away by the dragonslayers to make that vile outlawed potion Dragon's Breath!" the bronze spat, his azure eyes simmering with wrath. Smoke trickled from his nostrils. "My grandmother, Goldwing, believes that they are intending to sell the potion to the highest bidder on the Shadow Exchange. To those who can meet their price, Dragon's Breath is worth a small fortune."

"But that's—that's barbaric!" Arista cried, feeling sick. "And a violation of Dragon's Oath. If they're caught it'll mean life in Inferno."

Fireflash snarled, "Only if they're caught by a Hunter, little Healer. Any bronze who finds them is ordered to pass a sentence of death upon them, without exception. Only we can't manage to find them. That's why we've called in the Dragon's Advocate and his apprentice to help."

"The Dragon's Advocate?" Severus repeated. "What's that?"

"The title given to the Dark Hunter who works most closely with us bronzes. He's one we trust implicitly to represent us to the AMA, who has our best interests at heart."

"Sounds like he would know how best to betray you too," Snape said darkly.

Fireflash shook his head vehemently. "No way. Merrick is bound by even stronger oaths than the one you just swore, Sev. He's been given Veritaserum and truth read by one of our matriarchs as well. He's no traitor. He's out there right now, trying to bring some of them down. His partner, Brightfang, was one of those killed. He wants the dragonslayers dead as much as any dragon."

"Then the one leading these dragonslayers has to be someone with access to Ministry records," the Potions Master mused. "Things that are restricted, for no one can make Dragon's Breath without approval from the Ministry, the formula's forbidden to any wizard without it. So your leader has to be someone with connections in the Ministry of Magic. And also someone who is an experienced potion maker, because I doubt that draft is easy to brew."

"One of your Death Eaters, Sev?"

"Perhaps. Or someone who wants to become one," Severus replied, scowling. "Someone who's depraved and dangerous, who doesn't fear getting caught, not even by a bronze dragon."

"He'll learn differently one day, by George!" Fireflash vowed, a tiny spurt of flame emerging from his jaws. He opened his wings briefly, testing the muscles. "Still not up to real flight," he muttered, heaving a sigh.

"Give it time, Flash. You almost died, you can't expect to bounce back from dragonbane poisoning in a day or even a week," Arista told him. She placed a hand on his leg, reading him with her talent. "Your lungs and heart are good and so are the neural pathways in your brain," she reported. "But you've still got pockets of poison lingering in the muscles of your spine, hindlegs, and shoulders."

"I thought you said the antidote neutralized it," the dragon growled peevishly.

"It has, but dragonbane tends to linger in your system even after it's been neutralized," she answered. "That's why you need to keep taking the antidote, so it can help you break down the particles still remaining. I think another day or two and the poison will be completely gone. But you could experience muscle spasms still for months afterwards."

"So should I continue taking the antidote after that?"

Arista shook her head. "No. Once the poison's gone from your system you have to stop taking the antidote. Otherwise you could become addicted to it."

Fireflash stared at her. "What the hell's in it that makes it addictive?"

"Mandrake root," Arista answered before Severus could reply. "It counteracts the paralysis from the dragonbane, but you know how easy it is for a dragon's system to become addicted to it, Flash."

"_Mandrake_ root! Blazes, kid, the cure's almost as bad as the poison," the bronze exclaimed. "No wonder I feel like my head's two sizes bigger than the rest of me. You sure it's safe for me to keep drinking that stuff?"

"Yes. But only for so long. Don't worry, Flash, I won't let you get addicted to mandrake," she reassured him.

"You'd better not. I had a third cousin who became addicted to it, and we had to watch him all the time, to make sure he didn't kill himself flying into a cliff or something, chasing visions that were never there to begin with. He was totally bonkers, talked to people and dragons that were only in his imagination, and he had to have two keepers with him always, to keep him calm, because if he got mad, he'd flame anything close to him." Fireflash shuddered. "I'd rather die than live like that."

"Is he still alive?" Drake asked.

"Yeah. Still madder than a March hare too. We only see him on clan reunions, he's too unpredictable to be around otherwise."

"Can't the addiction be reversed somehow?" Drake wanted to know.

"Not now. He's been addicted for over fifty years now. The withdrawal symptoms alone would kill him, his body's too dependent on it," Fireflash said sadly. "Poor Pyrite. He used to be an ace, flew against the Chinese Reds during World War II in the Pacific. Now he sees fuzzy pink bunnies everywhere and thinks he is one sometimes. But that's better than the times he thinks he's still on a mission in the Pacific. Last time he was in that frame of mind, he lit up half the Olympic Basin with a wildfire it took days to put out, even with weather magic."

"Holy God!" Drake whispered, exchanging glances of alarm with Arista.

"But that was fifteen years ago, before his keepers learned how to direct his visions into something safe, like fuzzy bunnies or whatever. He still doesn't know about that incident, and nobody will tell him either, for fear he'll try to kill himself over it. Thirty people died, the fire spread too fast for them to get away in time. Pyrite would never forgive himself for that. Bronzes don't kill innocents, especially not ones like him, who were once war heroes."

"Trust me, Flash. I'll stop giving you the antidote long before your threshold is reached," Arista reassured him. "You're a long way from that point yet, so don't worry."

"And I'm gonna stay that way. I can't hunt down Aventurine's murderer if I think I'm the Energizer Bunny, that's for damn sure."

Arista giggled at the reference, and Fireflash glared at her. Then he licked his lips and said, "I'm starting to feel a bit sleepy now, but next time I wake up, I'm going to need something in my stomach. Which means a midnight trip to the ocean."

"The ocean?" Severus repeated. "But that's miles from here. How are you going to get there without flying?"

"Dragon magic, of course." Fireflash shrugged. "You'll see what I mean." _You've seen it before, Sev, only you won't remember it. But this time you can keep your memory of the portal, since you're sworn and the holder of my life debt. The holder of a bronze's life debt is granted special privileges, much like the Advocate. _  
"What do you eat anyhow, Flash?" Drake asked, eyeing the big creature uneasily.

"Not innocent maidens or bad apprentices," the dragon said with a toothy grin. "My main diet is fish, mostly yellow and bluefin tuna and occasionally swordfish if I can find one. The rest of it is sea kelp, which gives my scales their natural sparkle, and sometimes ostriches and their eggs. Advocate Merrick runs an ostrich farm down in Texas and sometimes he lets us hunt on his range." The dragon sighed wistfully. "I haven't had ostrich in a good two months. Maybe when I'm feeling up to it, I'll detour over to his farm and have a nice ostrich or three as a snack."

"Do they taste like chicken?" Arista teased.

"Nope. They taste like ostrich," the dragon smirked. "You mean to tell me you never ate an ostrich burger when you were down in Texas with Jenna and Colin, kid?"

"No. I thought beef was safer."

"Ah, kid, you don't know what you've been missing. There's nothing quite like a good juicy ostrich, fresh from a run," the dragon said rapturously. "Just ask the Advocate, he lives off them too." Fireflash yawned, displaying a mouth the size of a cavern. "We'll talk more later, okay?" Then he curled into a ball and began to snore softly.

Arista, Severus, and Drake tiptoed away, leaving the recovering dragon to his well-deserved rest and his dreams of ostrich steaks racing across the Texas panhandle.

**A/ N: Well, what did you think of this new turn of events? Are you getting nervous yet? Any thoughts on who's behind this?**


	11. Tidal Waves and Talons

**Tidal Waves and Talons**

Two days later, Arista pronounced Fireflash free of the dragonbane and took him off the antidote for good and all. His system had rallied enough to repair a great deal of the damage the poison had caused, enough so Arista was reasonably certain he would suffer no lingering effects, such as labored breathing or a heart murmur. Ari agreed with the younger magician's diagnosis, though she did caution the dragon to take it easy for a week, since if he stressed his newly healed muscles too much they could go into spasms.

Which meant no long flights and no strenuous pursuit of the dark wizard he'd been sworn to catch. The inactivity grated on the dragon's nerves, for he knew how important it was to catch the dragonslayer before he struck again. He spent a good portion of his day basking in the sand near the ocean, choosing a deserted section of beach that had been declared off limits to people because of the amount of red jellyfish in the water. The jellyfish offered no harm to a bronze dragon, in fact he often ate them as a midafternoon snack. The dragon was an excellent swimmer, and could dive for at least a hundred feet, deep enough to hunt the schools of tuna he so loved. His wings acted like great fins in the water, allowing him to swim swiftly after the great fish and swallow several of them in one gulp.

After he hunted, he often basked for a good hour or so, polishing his scales with his long prehensile tongue, till they shone like miniature sunbursts. He was always careful to remain masked at such times, so no passing Muggle ship or aircraft would spot him and have to be dosed with his amnesiac breath. He was also careful to leave no trace of his tracks in the sand, often summoning a gentle wind to erase his talon marks in the sand or splashing seawater over the depressions left by his body.

He used the portal to travel back and forth from the Amarotti residence, making Severus, Arista, and Drake swear to never reveal the existence of it to anyone. "This is one of the ways we get from place to place in a hurry, especially when we don't want arrive at our destination too tired to fight," he informed them gravely. "It's forbidden for me to reveal the existence of the portals to any but three people I trust with my life. All of you are holders of my life debt, and therefore allowed to know such classified information."

"Did my mom know about them?" Arista asked.

Fireflash shook his head. "No. But not because I didn't trust her. It was because she was a Dark Hunter. We have strict rules regarding Hunters, the only one who is allowed to know of the portals is the Advocate, no one else. If a Hunter ever went rogue, there'd be no telling what damage he could do with such information, so we prefer not to risk it and thus only the Advocate is ever told of such magic."

"You made her forget, didn't you?" Severus asked, his tone faintly disapproving.

"I had to, Sev." Fireflash said, somewhat defensively. "Dragon Law can't be broken on a whim. Even for one's partner." He coughed softly. "As it is, I'm gonna catch hell from some of the elders for allowing you three to remember the portal magic, even though you're all life debt holders and non-Hunters. Some of the elders are still prejudiced against European wizards, unfortunately. Bronzes have long memories and some of them, like my grandmother Goldwing, still remember the time before the Exodus."

"Will it get you in trouble, our knowing, Flash?" Arista asked, frowning up at the bronze in concern.

"Not really. The elders love to complain about us younger ones breaking rules, but they can't fault me here," Fireflash shrugged. "I'm well within the codicils of the Law here, and no matter how much they grumble about it, they can't do anything else save accept my judgement. Don't worry your head about it, Arista sweetie. Your status as a Healer will impress their wings off, or I'm not Citrine's only son. They won't dare challenge my decision after that. Wizard Healers are the most respected profession among my people, even above Dark Hunters."

"How come?" Arista queried.

"Because when the Guild put a blood price on our heads centuries ago, Healers like you refused to obey it. One and all of them declared it unlawful to hunt a sentient species to utter extinction and refused to sign the agreements set forth by the Wizard Councils. Not even when members of the Guild threatened their lives and the lives of their families. The Healers were driven out of their homes, or ostracized, and some of them were hunted down just like the dragons, but they were the only ones to remain true to their principles and stand up for what was right. That's why when the Dragon Exodus began, many Healer families accompanied us west, because they couldn't stand being under Guild law any more. As a result of the Guild's stupidity, Europe and Britain lost half of its major Healers and their families, which was probably why the black plague was so widespread afterwards. But the bronzes have never forgotten the Healers' sacrifice and offer you all honor and respect, Arista Snape."

He dipped his head in a gesture of respect, his frills flattening. Then he eyed her fondly, and said, "I've been in touch with an old friend of mine, a bronze female named Sunstrike, of the Silver Talon clan. She's on the Dragon Council, and she would very much like to meet all of you. I suggested we meet her on the beach after moonrise, if that's all right with you guys?"

Drake and Arista exchanged glances with Professor Snape, who considered the request thoughtfully for about five minutes before nodding in agreement. "Yes, I don't see why not. If it will set some of the dragons' minds at ease about us, that's all to the good." He didn't fancy having to worry about what a distrustful dragon might do if he thought a Potions Master from Britain a threat.

"Good. I'll tell Sunny to expect us somewhere around moonrise." Fireflash sounded pleased. "It's a full moon tonight, just right for a moonlight swim."

"For you maybe," Arista chuckled. "I don't want to end up jellyfish food."

Fireflash snickered. "All the jellyfish are gone by now. Once I started snacking on them, they decided discretion was the better part of valor and moved on. The water's clean now, though the Muggle beach patrols don't know that yet." He flicked his tail idly, then curled up on the lawn, humming sleepily.

The three wizards left him to go and eat some lunch and practice some more Defense with Severus, promising to meet the bronze an hour or so before moonrise so he could take them through the portal.

Point Pleasant Beach was deserted when they emerged from the archway of fire the bronze had conjured. The only sounds were the soft hush of the waves against the shore and the gentle breeze that ruffled the sea grass. The sky was a brilliant indigo dusted with twinkling stars, the perfect night to stargaze. _Professor Sinistra would love a night like this_, Arista mused as she followed her father through the portal. She was wearing a simple green bathing suit underneath her jean shorts and T-shirt, a towel draped over her shoulder and flip-flops hanging from her other hand. Fireflash's offer of swimming appealed to her and she wasn't about to miss this opportunity to swim in the ocean again, especially with a dragon for a companion.

Drake was also dressed for a midnight swim, like Arista he wouldn't miss an opportunity to hang out with Fireflash for anything. He carried his extra clothes in a small bag slung over his shoulder.

The only one in their small group who'd declined the bronze's offer of swimming was Severus, who wanted to chart several constellations instead, and thus was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved shirt. He carried a telescope in one hand and a watertight case with rolled up parchments of star charts and an illuminated quill. A small folding chair was slung over his back.

He set up his camp some thirty feet from the waterline on a small sand dune, far enough not to get splashed by the kids coming out of the water, but high up enough to offer a decent vantage point to see the emerging constellations. Arista and Drake left their clothes beside his chair and ran down to dive into the warm water, followed by the dragon.

While the dragon and his students played in the surf, Severus put the telescope to his eye and examined the various constellations visible in the midnight sky. He quickly found Orion, the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, Cassiopeia and the Pleiades. He unrolled his star chart and made some notes on it with his illuminated quill, jotting down the date, the time, and the brightness of each of the stars. Stargazing was one of his favorite hobbies, it relaxed him after a long day of teaching.

Meanwhile, Arista and Drake played King of the Castle with Fireflash, taking turns diving off the bronze's shoulders and the top of his head into the ocean. It was great fun and they enjoyed themselves immensely, especially when Fireflash told them to ride on his tail while he swam through the moonlit water like a submarine, trailing the two apprentices behind him, who were laughing and screaming in delight.

"This is better than being on a jet ski!" Arista crowed as the dragon's tail left white foam in their wake.

Drake, who had never been on a jet ski, just laughed and clung tighter to the dragon's tail ridge in front of him. Fireflash's tail was broad enough to seat the two wizards comfortably inbetween the smaller ridges on his tail and he gave them a fast yet thrilling ride through the salty water, swimming expertly through the breakers.

But after forty minutes, the two decided to give the dragon a rest and headed into shore. Upon emerging from the water, Arista caught sight of a stretch of flat sand, smooth and washed clean by the waves. "Drake, let's build a sandcastle," she cried, kneeling on the beach and scooping up wet sand.

Drake shook his head to clear it of water, then joined her. The two were soon engrossed in building a miniature replica of Hogwarts.

Severus glanced out over the beach and caught sight of the bronze's bulk cruising slightly out beyond the breakers. Then he looked down and saw the two children absorbed in their sand sculpture. He watched the two for a few moments before he decided to put away his parchments and telescope and simply relax, enjoying the stillness and the moon shimmering on the dark water.

Drake and Arista were arguing good-naturedly over the placement of the Astronomy Tower when a wave suddenly swamped them and their sculpture, drenching them and causing the castle to become a crumbling lump of wet sand once more.

"Real nice, Flash!" Arista cried, scowling at the dragon, who had half emerged from the water, causing the tidal wave with his massive body and wings.

"Sorry. Looks like your castle just had a tsunami hit it," the dragon remarked, his azure eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Yeah, and there goes Trelawney's crystal ball, and all her tea leaves, so there's no more Divination homework," Drake laughed, indicating the spot where they'd made Trelawney's tower classroom.

"Not to mention all Marsh's fancy robes and clothes," Arista chortled. "Now they're all covered with seaweed."

"And now she's gonna write home to Daddy and ask him for a whole new wardrobe," Drake smirked. "After all, she's Queen of the Fens, not of the Merpeople."

"Queen of Spoiled Brats too," Arista added, chuckling. "Could you imagine her face though, if she woke up and found her bed floating away on a tidal wave and all of her stuff sunk to the bottom of the ocean?"

"We'd hear her screaming all the way across the ocean," Drake said, and then they both cracked up, imagining their nemesis's horror at discovering her perfect clothes and diamond jewelry ruined.

"_That_ would be priceless," Arista said, grinning. "But the whole castle would take weeks to dry out, even with magic. And could you imagine what the dungeon would smell like, after getting soaked with sea water?"

Drake made a face. "Ugh! Could you imagine your dad's face though, trying to salvage all his potion ingredients?"

Arista shook her head, her eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. "Oh, God! He'd be freaking out."

"You mean, like this?" Fireflash queried, grinning wickedly.

Arista glanced up at the big leviathan in alarm, not liking the gleeful note in the bronze's voice. "Flash, what are you up to?"

Her mouth fell open.

The bronze dragon had swept his wings back and open in a half circle, then brought them forward with enough force to create a very large tidal wave.

Which surged right over the sand and drenched the peacefully dozing Potions Master.

"What the HELL?" Severus bellowed, rudely awakened from his brief nap by a wave of freezing water.

He shot up from his chair, soaking wet, his hair dripping into his eyes, coughing and sputtering. "Where the bloody hell did that wave come from? It's not high tide yet," he muttered, bewildered, shoving his hair out of his eyes.

The confused look didn't last long as he caught sight of the bronze dragon and the two apprentices, who were nearly falling over, helpless with laughter at the trick Fireflash had played upon him. His eyes narrowed in anger, and he shouted, "All right, whose damn idea was this?"

"It was HIS!" Drake and Arista yelled, pointing at the grinning dragon.

"Oh right. You were probably all in on it," the professor muttered balefully.

"Nice night for a swim, huh, Sev?" Fireflash snickered, causing Arista and Drake to start laughing all over again.

"Very funny, Flash," the Potions Master snapped. Then he smirked evilly. "Let's see how funny you all find this." He drew his wand, and cried, "_Aqua Oceanica Agrippa_!"

Three large watery hands crept up out of the ocean, grabbed Arista, Drake, and Fireflash and threw them into the water. Or at least the hands threw the two kids into the ocean, the dragon was too heavy for the hand to lift, so it settled for drenching his head and making him sneeze.

It was about five minutes before the three of them emerged from their impromptu ducking onto dry land.

"That'll teach you to play pranks on your teacher, you little brats!" he said, wearing a satisfied smirk, despite his still dripping clothing.

"No fair, Dad!" Arista coughed, shivering in the chill air. "We had nothing to do with that. It was Fireflash's idea to drown you." She quickly grabbed her towel, which was now sopping wet, and muttered a quick dry charm. Then she wrapped it around her.

"We had no idea what he was going to do until he did it, sir," Drake added, wringing out his own towel and retrieving his wand from his bag to dry it and his clothes, which had gotten soaked by the dragon's tidal wave.

"What's the matter, Sev? Can't take a joke?" the dragon chortled, moving the rest of the way out of the surf and onto the beach, his eyes gleaming like a mischievous child's.

"Getting drenched with water while I'm sleeping is **not** funny!" Severus growled, looking madder than a wet cat. "I just hope you didn't ruin my star charts."

Fireflash snorted, then said, "The case is waterproof, right? So they should be fine." He drew in a lungful of air. "Here. I'll dry you off."

"That won't be necessary," the Potions Master huffed. "I can do it myself."

But Fireflash ignored him, breathing a gentle cone of very warm dry air over the professor. Snape's clothes and hair steamed gently for a minute, then dried instantly. "There. Good as new."

Severus shot the dragon a muted glare, but before he could say anything else, a soft alto voice said, "Playing with your little wizard friends again, Flash?"

All four of them turned to see a lovely bronze dragon emerge from a softly glowing portal some ten feet down the beach. She was slightly smaller than Fireflash, and she moved with a grace the wind would have envied. Her tail bore a blue plume on its tip and her scales were lighter in color than her male counterpart's, closer to a gold color. The frills on her face were more elongated and her eyes were aquamarine rather than azure. The only other major difference were the color of her talons—they were silver rather than burnished gold.

"Hi, Sunstrike. Long time no see," Fireflash turned to greet the other dragon.

She glided up to him, her head cocked to one side. "I must say, you look pretty good for a dragon shot with dragonbane, Fireflash. Either you were lucky or you had a damn good Healer, because you're the only victim of those dragonslayers to survive their attacks."

"Both, Sunny." He gestured to the three wizards standing on the sand behind him. "Sunstrike of the Silver Talon clan, meet Healer Arista Snape, her father Severus Snape, Potions Master, and his apprentice Drake Lockwood. Arista kept the breath in my body while Severus and Drake there brewed up the antidote that neutralized the dragonbane. They hold my life debt and are sworn members of the Society of Bronze."

Sunstrike eyed them in turn, scrutinizing them thoroughly, before saying, "You have my deepest gratitude for saving Fireflash's life. It has been many years since a bronze has owed a life debt to more than one wizard, much less three." She dipped her head in turn to them, though Arista got the lowest bow of the three, in keeping with her status as a Healer.

"Fireflash is our friend, we could hardly stand by and watch him die," Severus spoke quietly, meeting the dragon's eyes steadily, though Sunstrike's piercing regard was not easy to confront. Still, he knew better than to show submission in front of a predator, and for all their omnivorous ways, bronze dragons were still predators, bred to hunt.

"Your loyalty does you credit, Potions Master," she answered. "It puts the old theory that nothing good comes out of Britain except rainy weather false. Some of the elders on the Council were inclined to regard Fireflash's trust in you, a British wizard, as misplaced. But in light of your actions here, I would say that Flash's trust was amply rewarded."

"Your regard is greatly appreciated, lady," Severus said, and bowed to her.

She nodded to him, then turned her regard on Arista, who had taken the time to dress in her discarded shorts and T-shirt while the dragon was speaking to her father. "You are young for such power, Healer Snape. In fact, I doubt if I've ever seen one your age demonstrate such skill before this. Is yours an inherited talent?"

"It is, lady," Arista answered respectfully. "On my mother's side. My grandmother, Arista Amarotti, is a master Animal Healer and it is through her line that I get my talent."

Sunstrike raised an eyebrow at that. "Healer Amarotti's talent is well known among the community of magical creatures. Strange, that it skipped her daughters and came to you."

"My grandmother said that happens sometimes," Arista replied.

"And whose daughter are you then?"

"My mother was Amelia, lady. She was a Dark Hunter."

"Ah. Nightshade's last victim. She was a good friend to us, we will not forget her sacrifice. Amelia Dragonfriend, we call her, one of the few we grant that distinction, child. You come of a respectable lineage, young Healer. It is now no wonder that you are so strong. The Amarotti women have always been exceptional magicians."

Arista felt herself flush slightly in embarrassment, the way she always did when someone complimented her on her unusual healing talent. A part of her would always be uncomfortable with such effusive praise for a talent that it had been sheer luck she had inherited, something that came to her as naturally as breathing. It was not a skill she had worked hard to learn, she had always been able to do it, healing was a part of her, like her auburn hair and brown eyes.

"Like my father said, I just did what anyone would do. I saved my friend's life."

Sunstrike chuckled. "Modesty in one so young? I like that." She slanted an approving glance over at Professor Snape. "Your child does you credit as a parent, Severus Snape. Most children her age are full of their own self importance and think they know everything there is to know. It's refreshing to meet youngsters who still know the meaning of respect nowadays."

She turned to look at Drake, who did his best to meet her gaze the way his teacher and his best friend had done. "You are fortunate in your teacher, Mr. Lockwood. See that you remain a worthy student."

"I will, lady," Drake answered softly, breathing slowly so he would not stutter. "Professor Snape is the best Potions Master we've ever had at Hogwarts. And he's good at Defense Against the Dark Arts too."

"Oh? A combat master as well? How interesting." Sunstrike's voice deepened approvingly. "The Council wishes to speak with all of you wizards, to express their gratitude for saving one of our own, as well as ask you a few questions. Would you be willing to accompany me to speak with them tonight?"

Something in her tone as she said that last made it seem more of an order than a request, and all of them sensed that it wouldn't be very smart to refuse and so they all agreed.

"Am I summoned before them too?" Fireflash asked.

"You are. The elders wish to ask you about Aventurine's dying request to you," Sunstrike replied. Then she turned around and said pointedly, "Shall we go then? It's never wise to keep the elders waiting too long."

She inhaled, then blew out a cone of superheated air which changed to flame in mid-breath. She inscribed an arch in the air and a portal opened in the center of the flaming arc. Beyond was a great clearing, surrounded by huge snow-capped mountain peaks. In various poses of relaxation, some sitting, some lying, were six bronze dragons.

**A/N: So what did you think of their little joke? And are you ready to meet some more dragons? How did you like Sunstrike?**


	12. The Dragon Council

**The Dragon Council**

Fireflash entered the portal first, followed quickly by Severus, Arista, and Drake. Sunstrike came last, as the portal opener, only she could close the gateway. The portal sealed itself shut and vanished at her thought, and she joined Fireflash and his companions in the middle of the circle of dragons.

"Honored elders, I have brought Fireflash and his companions, sworn members of the Society of Bronze all, as you have requested," Sunstrike said, dipping both her head and wings in a gesture of extreme respect.

The largest of the dragons, a male who bore a few scars on his burnished hide, returned the younger dragon's bow and said, "The Council thanks you, Lady Sunstrike, for your timely response." He then turned to Fireflash and the three wizards, who were standing next to each other, utterly still, awed by the presence of so many dragons. "Are you free of the dragonbane, my son?"

"I am, Father," his son answered, giving his sire a brief bow of respect. "Though it may take months to be rid of the tremors, it's an after effect of the poisoning that is unavoidable."

The other dragon sighed. "That is as it must be. I am just grateful you are still breathing." His brilliant emerald eyes darkened. "So many of us have been claimed by that cursed lichen, given over to death before their time . . .It is a very great miracle that you are recovered as quickly as you are, Flash."

"The miracle was performed by these wizards here with me, my lord," Fireflash said, indicating the three with a sweep of one taloned forefoot. "Sardonyx, Lord of the Council of Dragons, may I present to you the holders of my life debt. Healer Arista Snape, her father, Potions Master Severus Snape, and his apprentice Drake Lockwood." He indicated each of them in turn. As he did so, Arista, Severus, and Drake bowed to the old dragon. Sardonyx regarded them gravely, returning their bows with a graceful dip of his head. "Healer Arista fought the poison with her talent while Severus brewed the antidote along with Drake that defeated the dragonbane," Fireflash continued, addressing his comments to all those present. "Without them I would now be flying along the Star Road of my ancestors, as did Aventurine, Amber, and the others. I name them worthy friends of the highest order."

"As well you should," Sardonyx said. "We too thank you, wizards, to save the life of a bronze dragon is no small thing." All the other dragons nodded and dipped their heads in respect. "May I introduce the other members of the Council? They are as follows. To my right is Lady Citrine, who is also my mate, and next to her is Lord Thundersky. To his left is Lord Brightfire, and next to him is Lady Tiger Eye." That dragon was a bit darker than the rest and had faint deep stripes over her back and sides, hence her name. "Next to her is our most junior member, Lord Stormstrider. And you already know Lady Sunstrike. Together we make up the Council of Seven, and it is our responsibility to uphold the laws for our kind and to settle disputes if necessary between dragon and wizard alike."

"But there are some things which cannot be settled by mere words, Sardonyx," hissed Tiger Eye, her frills standing up, taut with anger. Her blue eyes were cold as she looked at the trio of wizards. "Yes, we are grateful to these humans here for saving your son's life, but it does not excuse the atrocities committed by their kind."

There was a low grumble of agreement from three of the other dragons, and suddenly Arista felt as if she were a mouse in a roomful of hungry cats. She shivered uncontrollably and moved closer to her father, who gripped her shoulder comfortingly. She darted a glance at him, and saw he was standing calmly, his face a mask of utter indifference, as if it mattered little to him what the dragons thought of him.

Yet she could sense that underneath the mask he too was experiencing the same gut churning anxiety as she. Strange, in all the time she'd known Fireflash, the big bronze had never made her feel this way. Perhaps it was merely the proximity of so many dragons together, or perhaps it was the fact that so many of them were angry and willing to take that anger out on her that frightened her so badly.

Beside her, Drake was pale and shaking, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance and sent him a soothing wave of calm that she wished she felt. _Bronze dragons don't harm innocents, you know that. Especially not the holders of a life debt. We're sacrosanct, according to their laws, _she reminded herself, recalling all the books she'd studied on bronze dragons and their customs and habits when she was Jenna and Colin's apprentice.

"And is it now our policy, Lady Tiger Eye, to hold all humans responsible for the evil done by a few?" Fireflash broke in, coming forward a pace, shielding the wizards somewhat from the other dragon.

She bristled at that, narrowing her eyes. "Wizards like them killed my son, Mirrordusk, do not think I will so easily forgive that, Fireflash. My son was only two hundred years old, barely past his majority, he had centuries left in which to live! And those—those creeping worms killed him simply to satisfy their own greed and pleasure." She quivered with suppressed rage and grief. "So do not expect me to mouth platitudes of love and friendship, young one, when my son lies cold in the ground, never to fly the skies again."

"Peace, Tiger Eye," soothed Citrine, darting a look of sympathy and concern at the other female. "No one says you have to forgive the ones who killed Mirrordusk, only that you do not blame these others for the wrong done to you."

"That's easy for _you_ to say, Citrine! You still have your son, unlike me!" the other spat, her wings rustling.

"And would you begrudge me that, sister?" Citrine demanded, shooting the other dragon a stern glare. "Would you prefer that I mourned the loss of my child even as you? Would that make you happy, lady, if my heart was torn to pieces as well?"

Their eyes met, and Arista could sense a struggle going on between the two, a battle of wills, silent yet intense.

But in the end Citrine seemed to prevail over the darker female, for Tiger Eye lowered her eyes and said softly, "Creator forbid you ever know such suffering, Citrine. Forgive me, sister, for I would never wish that upon anyone. But someone must answer for these crimes. Shall my Mirrordusk's loss go unavenged? He named Aventurine his Avenger, but now he too is dead. I ask you, Sardonyx, who then shall take up the mantle in his stead? Where then is justice for my murdered son?"

Her impassioned plea caught at Arista's heart, and she found herself feeling sorry for the poor mother dragon, who must now come to terms with an irreconcilable loss, the worst nightmare any parent ever had to face. She could also sense her father's reaction to the dragon's words.

Severus felt a surge of pity for Tiger Eye, for he could well imagine how much pain she felt at the loss of her child, but he was also wary at the same time, for such strong grief could lead the dragon to commit violence, and they were easy targets. His hand inched towards his wand. Best to be prepared for anything.

Drake was simply praying that the others could restrain the grief-stricken irrational Tiger Eye, before she cut loose with a blast of flame and made them all toast.

"She is right, Sardonyx. When Starsong was slain, you assured us that justice would be done on his murderer, and yet the oathbreaker still walks free," said Stormstrider angrily.

"Worse, now there are four more deaths to add to the toll," remarked Thundersky. "Are we to sit tamely by like turtledoves and let these butchers pick us off one by one?"

"No! I say we take some of them hostage and make them tell us where the dragonslayers are hiding," Stormstrider cried, glaring at Arista, Severus, and Drake icily. "They'll talk after a good dose of flame."

"You're talking like an idiot, Stormstrider!" Sunstrike snapped. "What would that gain us, except more strife between us and the wizards? Are we to become like all the stories say of us, monsters who rain fire and doom upon innocents? Now _that_ would really help. Talk sense, for Creator's sake!"

"Why should I, when talking has gotten us nowhere?" the other bronze retorted, baring his teeth at Sunstrike. "_They_ began the killing, not us! I say now it's time to act and see how they like it when we kill a few of them."

"SILENCE!" roared Sardonyx, whipping his head around to pin the two quarreling younger dragons with a glare so fierce that both of them froze. "Is this how you were brought up to act? Quarreling like a pair of dragonets over a fishbone?" The two lowered their heads in shame. "Perhaps I was remiss in allowing you two seats upon this Council if this is how you are going to behave." Sardonyx scolded. He fixed the younger male with a stern glower that made the other quiver. "For shame, Stormstrider, that you would speak such hateful words in front of our guests, after what they have done. What is the First Law of our kind, young one? Answer me!"

Softly, the younger dragon said, "A bronze dragon hunts only for food and never harms innocents."

"Indeed. And your proposed course of action would break that law all to pieces, would it not?"

"Yes, sir," the other admitted. But then he added with a flash of defiance, "But are we to do nothing then, sir?"

"I have sent the Advocate out with his apprentice to track down one of those responsible, young Stormstrider. I would not call that nothing," Sardonyx said testily.

"But it isn't enough, Sardonyx!" exclaimed Tiger Eye. "We've heard no word from the Advocate in weeks."

"Sometimes it takes awhile for a Hunter to find a suspect, Tiger Eye," Fireflash informed her. "These criminals aren't stupid, they know how to hide and they're good at what they do. I am the Avenger for Aventurine, and I've been a Dark Hunter for over twenty years and they caught _me_ off guard. That should tell you something."

"That you got careless, perhaps, Flash?" sneered Stormstrider.

Fireflash glared at the other dragon. "You wish, Strider. It took two of them to take me down, which means that they had knowledge of my whereabouts beforehand. The question you should be asking is how did they come by such information? For it was an ambush, they were _waiting_ for me, I was not followed."

"Why don't we ask the wizards that question?" boomed Brightfire. He looked directly at Severus. "Well, Potions Master? How is it possible that these dragonslayers knew where Fireflash was going to be?"

Severus cleared his throat. Then he replied, "There are several ways they might have gained such information. One possibility is a Potion of Clairvoyance. If you drink it and then concentrate upon a particular image, you can sometimes see into the future. Or one of them might be a Seer, able to look into the future and see where Fireflash was going to be at that particular moment and plan an ambush." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "The only other possibility, and it's highly unlikely, is that there is a spy among you, telling the dragonslayers where to find dragons."

"Never!" Thundersky snorted. "No bronze would ever stoop so low as to betray his own kind. We aren't like you humans, who betray each other right and left."

"Not all humans betray each other, sir," Arista spoke up. "Plenty of human wizards risked their lives for you during the Exodus. Many of them paid for it with their lives. I've studied the history, sir, and there was at least one among you who did betray everything you stood for—he was called Obsidian, and he was the one who told the Dragonslayer Guild about the dragonbane."

"We no longer speak his name, young Healer," Sardonyx said, baring his fangs slightly. "He is outcast and kinless, his soul set free to roam the darkness forever, never to know the Light again. He is the Shadowed, the Betrayer, and his name is a curse. But you are correct, and we do you an injustice by prejudging you thus. Thundersky, you owe the Healer an apology for your words."

"Why should_ he_ apologize to her?" sputtered Stormstrider, gaping at his leader.

"Shut up, young fool," Thundersky growled. "Sardonyx is right, I spoke without thinking. I ask your forgiveness, Healer, for my ill-considered words. The sacrifice of the Healers shall never be forgotten. Not even by impetuous young idiots," he added, giving the fiery Stormstrider a pointed glare.

"Apology accepted, sir." Arista said. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the nature of these attacks? Perhaps if there were some kind of pattern, we could figure out when they were going to strike next or something."

Snape was nodding in approval, as was Fireflash. "That's sound thinking, Arista. You learned your lessons well from Colin," the bronze said. "But unfortunately, there was no real pattern that we could discover, that's why we haven't been able to track them successfully. The attacks all took place at different times and with different weapons. They were also, we think, performed by different people. We can only assume they were taught how to slay dragons by one who has studied such forbidden knowledge."

"Therefore a European wizard," spat Tiger Eye. "For it is well-known they supported the Guild in the old days and they still use dragon parts in their potions. Even _you_ cannot deny that, Potions Master."

"True," Severus replied. "We still use scales and talons and blood for our potion ingredients, though not of bronze dragons, lady. And I'll admit that the mastermind behind these attacks is probably a wizard with connections to the Guild through the Ministry of Magic. That's the only way he could have access to those records, which detail things the Dragonslayer Guild taught, such as the best way to kill a dragon." Then his tone sharpened. "But don't blame _me_ for what he did. I wasn't the one who killed your son, and while I am sorry for your loss, I resent you thinking I'm the same as a renegade dark wizard simply because we happen to come from the same place." He looked the dragon right in the eyes as he said this, frowning at her much the same way as he would have a student of his that was acting like an utter idiot.

To Arista's surprise, the bronze seemed a bit ashamed, and said quietly, "Perhaps you are right, Severus Snape. I do you a disservice comparing you to that filth. I am not myself these days, and I ask that you excuse me. But surely you can understand that I wish to find my son's killer and see him brought to justice for his crime?"

"I do. I would be the same if it were me in your place," the Potions Master replied honestly.

"Perhaps if we all work together, we can discover the identity of these people," Arista suggested. Her old lessons in tracking criminals were starting to come back to her now. "Flash, was there anything left by the bodies of the dragons that could be used to trace them with a tracking spell?"

The bronze shook his head. "No. They left no trace behind."

Sunstrike cleared her throat abruptly. "Actually, that's not true. I found a small piece of red fabric where you had fallen, Flash. It was tiny, no bigger than the tip of my talon, but I saved it."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Fireflash demanded.

"Because you were in no condition to analyze it," the female snapped. "Besides, I performed several tracking spells on it and the results were all the same: the spell failed."

"Failed how? It couldn't pick up a signature?"

"No, the aura of the person using the cloak was . . .garbled. It couldn't connect it with any one wizard and so the spell was useless," she answered tightly. "I might not be a Hunter like you, Fireflash, but I know how to cast locator spells as well as anyone."

"Hmm. Obviously the owner of the cloak is skilled at masking his aura. Rather like another dark wizard I used to know. Kittrick Slade. My partner Amelia Amarotti hunted him down eventually. But then, she was a master empath, and those like her are few and far between."

Severus tensed, fearing that the next words out of Fireflash's mouth would be that her daughter was also an empath. He would be damned if he let Arista risk her sanity tracking down a blasted necromancer the way Amelia had done.

Instead it was Drake who spoke up, at last finding nerve enough to address the huge bronze beasts. "Maybe you can't track him by spells, sir, but have you tried tracking him by using a magehound?"

"No," Fireflash admitted. "We never even thought of it."

"And we should have," snorted Sunstrike. "Creator bear witness that a magehound can track practically anyone with magic, unless he knows how to totally hide his aura."

"And those who can do that are very few," remarked Citrine.

"Maybe we could let Scout try and see if he can find a trail," Arista offered. "He was once the best magehound in America."

"You_ own_ a magehound, young Healer?" asked Brightfire.

"And not just any magehound either," Drake put in. "She owns Lockheed's Scout."

"The dog who tracked Beau Charles across the Rockies?" repeated Sardonyx in astonishment.

"The same, sir. When he retired, he was given to us as a Christmas gift by my former teachers," Arista explained. "But I don't think he's forgotten everything he learned when he was working with the Hunters. If anyone can find your dragonslayer, he can."

Hope bloomed anew in Tiger Eye's face. "Would you be willing to let us borrow him, Healer Arista? He could be the key to finding those—those monsters once and for all."

Arista nodded. "Scout and I would be glad to help you, lady."

"Hold it, miss," Severus broke in. "You go nowhere without me. Especially not haring off to track some damn dark wizard. This isn't some kind of game, you know."

"I know, Dad. I wasn't thinking of leaving by myself," his daughter said.

Severus snorted in disbelief. "No, you were thinking of leaving with Scout and maybe Drake too. Neither of which has ever gone up against the likes of a dark wizard before."

"We'll all go," Fireflash said suddenly. "In another day or two I'll be fit to fly, and we can see if Scout can pick up the wizard's scent. I can take you to the place where I was hit and then we'll see if Lockheed's Scout still is the legend everyone says he is. Is this acceptable to you?"

Slowly, Severus nodded. "Yes. Under one condition." Here he fixed Arista and Drake with one of his uncompromising looks. "Both of you have to promise me that you will do exactly as I say without argument. If I tell you to run, just do it. It's not your job to fight this wizard, whoever he is. That's for me and Fireflash to handle. The only reason I'm letting you come at all is because I know damn well that if I don't, the two of you will only follow us anyway and get into worse trouble."

"And you might need me to heal someone," Arista reminded him.

"And I'm pretty good at concealment spells, Professor," Drake added. "I can hide us from them if I have to."

Severus nodded reluctantly. "I want your word now. You do exactly what I say when I say it, no backtalk. Or else I'll tie you both up and stuff you in a closet and set Stormstrider to guard you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," they agreed.

"Are those terms acceptable to the Council, my lord?" Fireflash asked Sardonyx.

"They seem sound to me," the big bronze replied. "What say the rest of you?"

All the others agreed, except Tiger Eye added, "There should be a Council member along, to witness that justice is done."

"I agree," Thundersky said. "Who shall go?"

"I will," Sunstrike volunteered. "I am the least biased among you. I can be an impartial witness if necessary."

Stormstrider looked like he might object, but shut his mouth when Citrine bared her fangs at him. "I second the motion. Sunstrike should go as witness."

"Very well. As we are all in agreement, so it shall be," Sardonyx proclaimed. "Fireflash, you and Severus shall lead this expedition, accompanied by your Healer and apprentice, with Lockheed's Scout to track and Sunstrike to represent the Council. May fortune favor you and justice be done." He bowed to them. "This meeting is ended. Go in peace, my friends, and hunt well."

"We'll do our best, my lord," Arista said, smiling at him.

"I'm sure you will, little Healer." Sardonyx said, giving her a smile in return. Then he said to his son, "Be careful, Fireflash. One near death experience was enough for me."

"For me too, Father," his son said feelingly. "I won't be caught off guard that way again."

"See that you're not, for the love of God," Citrine added, nuzzling her son affectionately. "You and Topaz are all I have."

Fireflash blushed slightly, coloring a faint bluish green. "Aww, Ma, cut it out," he muttered. "I'll be fine. Once bitten twice shy, you know."

Citrine merely smiled, then drew away. "May Fortune bless you all and Victory cast her cloak about you. Farewell and good hunting!"

The others echoed her last sentence, then Fireflash reopened the portal and they all returned to the beach house.

The sun was just cresting the horizon, and Arista was astonished to discover that only four hours had passed since they had left. It had seemed like much longer. She yawned sleepily. "Well, I'm going to bed, even if it is five in the morning or whatever."

"Me too," Drake said eagerly.

"That's the best suggestion I've heard all night," Snape declared, and then followed the two into the house and up the stairs.

* * * * * *

Fireflash insisted that their mission remain a secret, even from the Amarottis, for the Council did not want it known that the dragonslayers had returned. Thus it was with reluctance that Severus concocted a story of returning to see Colin and Jenna for a week or two, being invited on a camping trip in the Poconos. He disliked lying to them, but he had no choice, given the strictures the Council had placed upon them.

He returned to the Octagonal Garden a day or so later to purchase the supplies they would need, for Fireflash had told them the trail might well lead into some of the largest stretches of wilderness in the western United States, namely Washington's Olympic Basin. He bought three all purpose magic sleeping bags, which compacted to a square small enough to fit in a pocket, and inflated to a mattress complete with a pillow and a supersoft blanket at a word. These could also have warming charms cast upon them to ensure that you slept cozily. The tent was a similar affair, large enough to fit four people, if necessary. For food he stuck to the easily portable kind, mainly granola trail mix, dried fruit, and small packets of preserved soup and sandwiches, all of which could be reheated with a command word. He also invested in several packets of water purifier and a potion that would keep mosquitoes and such away from you. Last but not least he purchased a simple healing kit, so Arista would not have to spend her talent healing minor cuts and bruises.

All of that was small enough to fit in a corner of a backpack and still have room left over for clothes. He'd instructed the two kids to pack light, bringing only absolute essentials with them, for they would have to move quickly, following Scout's trail. Arista had assured him that they wouldn't need a tracking spell in order to find the magehound once he began to hunt, because she could link with him empathically.

Fireflash was now well enough to fly semi-long distances, and they would all meet with Sunstrike on the beach at night again, after the Snapes and Drake had bid goodbye to Ari and Leo. Ari had graciously agreed to keep and eye on Comfrey for Arista and Drake called his parents via the Floo network and told them he'd be going camping for two weeks in case they tried to contact him at the Amarottis.

"They'd flip if they knew what we were really doing," he admitted to Arista, his gray eyes sparkling with the thrill of the forbidden. "My dad would have a fit, I'd be stuck staring at the four walls of my room for the entire summer if he ever learned I was going hunting dark wizards."

"We'll never tell," Arista assured him. "I'm surprised my dad actually said we could come, though I guess between Flash and the Council he didn't have much choice."

Drake merely nodded. "I guess even eight bronze dragons are too much for Professor Snape to argue with."

They were gathered on the beach, waiting for Sunstrike to arrive. Scout sat obediently beside Severus on a lead, he seemed to sense that something serious was going on, for he did not attempt to run off or play with Arista or Drake the way he normally would have.

Once again, Severus stressed the fact that the two children had promised to obey him implicitly. "This isn't a game, all of our lives could depend on you doing exactly as I say, no matter what. These are hardened criminals we're facing and I doubt if they'd care about killing a child, not considering what they've been doing for the past five months or so. Capturing them is my job, well, mine and the dragons'," he amended at Fireflash's pointed look. "Yours is to stay out of the way until the fighting's over. Under no circumstances are you to try any stupid heroics, is that understood?" He leveled one of his sternest glares at them.

"Yes, sir," they agreed, though Arista added silently, _I'll keep that promise unless it looks like one of them's about to kill you, Dad. Then all bets are off and I'll do whatever I have to. No way am I gonna let some scumbag dragonslayer make me an orphan for real. _  
There was a shimmering in the air and then Sunstrike emerged from the portal in front of them. In her talons she carried a small leather sack. "Greetings, my friends. Are you all prepared to find the dragonslayers?"

"As ready as we'll ever be, Sunny," Fireflash said.

She held out the small leather pouch to Severus. "Here is the scrap of cloth managed to gather from the site of the ambush. I only hope it is enough for your magehound to get a scent."

Severus took the pouch gently, it was about the size of his hand. He opened it and removed the scrap of cloth. "I'm sure this will be enough, Sunstrike. Most magehounds are trained to find a scent from a piece of fabric half this size, or even a few threads if necessary."

Scout whined eagerly, sensing that a hunt was in the offing. Snape stroked the dog's ears, whispering, "Wait. It's not time yet." Scout settled back down with a sigh of impatience, panting slightly.

Fireflash drew in a breath, then breathed out, opening the portal that would take them to the site of his ambush, deep in the secluded wilderness of Gifford Pinchot National Forest, where Mount St. Helen's was. Sunstrike stepped through first, launching herself into the air to do some aerial reconnaissance first, making certain no one was lying in wait for them. She contacted Flash after five minutes, reassuring him that the only occupants at this point were the birds and squirrels.

Severus led the way through the portal with Scout, followed by the two younger wizards. Fireflash was last, so he could shut the gateway. Once the gate was sealed, Severus knelt and unsnapped Scout's lead, tucking it in his pocket.

The dog was quivering with eagerness, but he remained standing quietly, his nose working to catalog all the myriad scents of the forest, his blue eyes bright with excitement. Severus gently pulled the dog's head around so the animal was looking at him. "Scout, we're counting on you to find some dark wizards for us," he said softly. "They tell me you're the best dog in the country, that you can track anyone no matter where they go. I need you to prove that to me today. Think you can do that?"

The magehound whuffed and wagged his tail. "Arista, are you linked to him yet?"

"Yes. He says he can track whatever you want, for however long it takes. Magehounds never give up until the quarry's brought in, sir," she interpreted the dog's emotions.

"Very well," Severus showed the magehound the scrap of cloth. "Scout, search!" he ordered, giving the dog the command to track and find. "Find the owner of this cloak for me."

Scout sniffed delicately at the scrap of cloth, inhaling the distinctive odor of wizard and the magical aura he radiated. Then he sniffed the air, moving in a slow circle about the clearing. He smelled slowly and deliberately, occasionally dropping his head down to sniff at the ground.

Then he stiffened, every muscle in his body taut._ I have it!_ He bayed triumphantly. _He went this way, Severus. This way, I can taste the dark taint upon the wind. _  
Arista had time to catch the fleeting elation the magehound sent before he sprang away, running silently on the track of the dragonslayers, moving effortlessly through the trees and the underbrush.

The three wizards and the dragon exchanged looks of disbelief and delight. "I'll be damned," the Potions Master muttered. " He really **is **as good as they say. He found the trail in five minutes."

"That's Lockheed's Scout for you. He's the best of the best," Fireflash chuckled, then launched himself into the air. "Let's see where the trail takes us."

**A/N: and who do you think will be at the end of it?**


	13. Hunting the Fugitives

**Hunting the Fugitives**

The three wizards and the dragons were quick to follow after the racing magehound, though Scout was soon out of sight and the only way they could follow him easily was because Arista was linked to him.

The Gifford Pinchot National Forest was a vast game preserve that sprawled over the southern half of Washington state, comprising over 1, 368, 300 acres of virtually untamed wilderness. There were some hiking trails and ranger bases and a visitor's center and two or three campgrounds for enterprising tourists, but on the whole, the preserve belonged to the wild animals. It was home to many endangered species, such as the bald eagle, the Northern spotted owl, grizzly bear, bull trout, Chinook, and even packs of gray wolves. It was also one of the favored hunting grounds of the bronze dragons, who loved the solitude and the high mountain peaks and the variety of salmon and bass in the rivers.

The forest was also the site of one of North America's largest active volcanoes, Mount St. Helen's, which drew a great number of tourists every year, who came from all over to photograph it and climb it and study it. Snape wasn't planning on doing any site seeing however, not until their current problem with the dragonslayers was resolved.

The three walked quickly through the trees, not actually trying to keep up with the dog, who was hot on the scent of the fugitives and wouldn't have slowed down for anything short of an Avada Kedavra. Arista said that she could feel the dog up to a range of twenty miles or so, and Severus knew he could call Scout in if he had to with the dog whistle, though he'd only do that if absolutely necessary.

Once Scout had closed in on their quarry, Arista told him she would ask the dog to wait for them, rather than allow him to confront the fugitives alone, though the magehound was a match for at least one wizard, trained to hold and capture.

The dragons flew silently overhead, masked from sight, scanning the area with their sharp dragon eyes. Thus far, the forest was undisturbed, save by their passing. Arista found herself walking ahead of the Potions Master and other times just behind him, tracking the dog's progress by the empathic link. The link allowed her to feel what the magehound did, which was mostly eagerness and determination to find his quarry.

Occasionally, the tree trunks were so close together she had to turn sideways to squeeze by them and then she was grateful from Severus's insistence that she only pack what was absolutely necessary. Had she been a clothes horse like Brittany Marsh or one of her friends, she'd never have managed to slip through the trees at all. She wondered how far the fugitive dragonslayers had gone into the forest and if they'd managed to hole up somewhere within its depths. That seemed the most likely course of action, for the national forest was vast and even the park rangers did not know every nook and cranny of it, just the major attractions and trails that a tourist was likely to take.

_We could wander in here for months and not see another human being. It'd be an ideal spot for some enterprising necromancer to practice a few forbidden spells, or even concoct a cauldron or two of Dragon's Breath._ She said as much to her companions, who agreed with her wholeheartedly.

"That's one of the problems we've had, trying to track them," remarked Sunstrike from above. "This forest is too vast for one of us to patrol alone, and one man or even a dozen can remain here undetected for a very long time if they're careful and knows how to live off the land, or has a base camp with a lot of stores laid in."

"That's for sure," Fireflash snorted. "It's like searching for an ant in an anthill. Aventurine and I quartered half of this place for over a month and turned up nothing. These are no novices we're tracking here, at least one of them's had some stealth training and can live off the land and he's taught what he knows to his buddies."

"Then it's a good thing we've got Scout to track," Drake said, coming up to walk alongside Arista. "That's one thing they can't block, a magehound's nose."

"True," the professor agreed. "There was only one dark wizard I ever knew of who could do that, and my wife killed him over fourteen years ago. I don't think these are quite in Slade's class when it comes to concealment spells, thank God." _Or else we might have to rely on Arista's empathy, and I don't think I could bear letting her go through what Amelia did, she's too young to endure that kind of evil. _  
"But they're good enough to hide from a trained Advocate and his apprentice," sighed Sunstrike. "While I know Advocate Merrick is an experienced Hunter, I think he's overwhelmed here, there's simply too much territory to cover, even using locator spells and such. Is there any chance of you contacting him, Flash, to see if he's discovered something we could use, or at least meeting up with him somewhere?"

Fireflash was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "It's odd, but I've been trying to mindspeak him since we came here and I'm not getting an answer. One reason Ray Merrick was chosen as Advocate was because he has an unusual telepathic ability, he can speak with us dragons over a very long distance. Since he was assigned to this case, he's been checking in with me, Aventurine, or my father every week or so. Once Aventurine was killed, it was just me or Sardonyx, but he's never missed a week. Until recently. He never contacted me last week, or my father either. Hunters are usually fanatics about following procedure, especially on remote assignments like this one."

"D'you think something may have happened to him?" Arista queried.

"Like being killed?" Drake suggested softly, his gray eyes wide with alarm.

"I'd hate to think that, but it's a possibility, kid," the bronze said heavily. "Usually he'd answer me right away when I contact him, unless he's hurt too bad to do so, or under an Imperius Curse, or dead, like you said."

"But if he was dead, wouldn't his apprentice try and contact you?" Severus asked. "You did say he was with a student, right?"

"Yes. An Advocate always has an apprentice wizard, one he's grooming to take his place someday. This time it's his daughter, around eighteen or nineteen, a recent graduate from the Academy. The Advocate only chooses the best from the top ten percent of graduates to be his student. So I know the kid's no slouch as a Hunter, but I doubt she's got Merrick's ability to mindspeak over distances, if at all. That's a rare talent."

"Couldn't she just send an owl, if she needed to?" Drake wanted to know.

"Normally, yeah. But on a remote like this, it's too easy for someone working for the other side to intercept a letter, so no Hunter will risk sending classified information with the owl post," Fireflash explained.

"You think they've got spies in the post office?" Arista exclaimed.

"Kid, I wouldn't put it past them. There are too many coincidences happening here for it to be mere chance. Once they got lucky, but five times means they've got a means to track us that we don't know about, and information on our whereabouts that nobody else could know of."

"But who would be heartless enough to betray you to the dragonslayers?" Drake wondered.

"Somebody who hates us really bad, Drake," Sunstrike answered. "Either that or someone who's desperate for power and will do anything to get it, even slaughtering bronze dragons for profit." She sighed angrily. "You'd be amazed how the almighty Galleon holds some people in thrall, kid. Even when they're rich as Midas, it's not enough, and they have to have more, and they don't care what they have to do to get it. Beg, borrow, steal, sell their children to slavers, kill their own mothers, whatever it takes, so long as it brings in the gold. Sick, isn't it?"

Drake looked as revolted by Sunstrike's statement as Arista felt. But he didn't attempt to deny the truth behind the bronze female's words. Both of them knew she spoke only the honest truth, harsh as it was. Greed had led to the downfall of many before this and it always would.

"So you think they're killing dragons just to make Dragon's Breath?" Arista asked.

"No, that's not the only reason," Sunstrike disagreed. "I think that potion is just an excuse. The real reason they're killing us is for power. I think one of them must be a thaumaturge, a dark wizard who knows how to gather power from the death of another creature. Necromancy of the worst sort, one that's done by a ritual killing, so the wizard behind it can siphon off as much of the dying creature's power as he can."

"But none of these killings have the feel of ritual magic about them, Sunny," Fireflash argued. "There's no pentagram drawn or the usual blood offerings upon the ground or black candles burnt around the body."

"That's apprentice stuff, Flash," Sunstrike sneered. "None of that's necessary if the magician knows what he's doing. All he needs is to be able to kill his target without maiming it utterly and the concentration to speak the blood ritual that draws another's life force to him before the heart stops beating. I've studied the files on thaumaturgy as well as any Hunter, Flash, and my gut instinct is telling me that one or more of these people is a ritualist, one who gains most of his power through the death agonies of his victims, like dragons."

Severus shuddered, for the practice the bronze spoke of reminded him rather forcefully of Voldemort. "Would such a one share his power with his followers, Sunstrike?"

"Hmmm. A good question, Potions Master. Unfortunately, I can't answer it. I'd be inclined to say no, simply because most necromancers don't give a rat's ass about anyone but themselves. But maybe this one is a little smarter than his brothers and doesn't mind sharing some of the time, enough so his followers still hang around him, hoping for an easy handout."

"Most ritualists practice this kind of thing because they can't gather power any other way, and were weak in magic to begin with," Flash put in. "Either that or they need extra power for some other reason, like raising a demon or whatever. Most thaumaturges are classic bullies, enjoying dominating anything weaker than they are, they probably tortured small animals as children or pulled wings off butterflies. They like any situation that gives them total control, and what better expression of ultimate control than the power of life and death over a bronze dragon, the single sentient species on this earth that could challenge mankind for dominance if we chose?"

"Not only that, but we've also got plenty of our own magic, and such a thing would be an irresistible lure to someone like that." Sunstrike reminded him. She ground her teeth in fury. "Just thinking about our magic in the hands of some slimy dishonorable wicked bastard is enough to make me want to burn something. Preferably him and his friends."

The sheer fury in her tone sent shivers down the spines of her companions, and one and all thanked God that they were not her enemy.

"How do you figure that one of them is this thaumaturge, or whatever?" Drake asked.

"Because all of the dragons that were killed radiated no aura of magic. Even dead, a bronze still bears an aura of the magic he or she was born with. But al of the dragons that they killed were lacking any magic whatsoever, which suggest rather strongly that it was stolen from them before they died," Sunstrike answered. "Otherwise, a residual magical aura would still be felt about the body."

"Yes, I can see where you're coming from, Sunny," Fireflash mused. "If only I could make contact with the Advocate, he examined Aventurine and Brightfang after we found them. He could tell us for certain if he sensed any magical aura about the bodies." He shook his head angrily. "Not that it really matters, whatever method they used the outcome was the same—a bronze's death. A crime guaranteed to send you on a one way trip to Inferno, if you're caught by a Hunter, or hell if I find them first."

Arista paused beside a clump of mulberry bushes to catch her breath, feeling for Scout with her mind. He was about fifteen miles ahead of them, tracking through the air while running along a riverbank. "Maybe it'll be easier if we fly instead of walk?" she suggested, wincing at her aching feet. "We can cover more ground that way."

Severus nodded. "Yes. I should have thought of that before." He pulled his broomstick off his rucksack and mounted it. "Just watch your flying, okay?" he cautioned the other two wizards. "No stupid Quidditch moves or anything like that. It's too close for acrobatics, and the last thing we need is for one of you to fall off and break your neck."

"Don't worry, sir. We'll be careful," Drake reassured his teacher. Then he kicked off from the ground and was airborne, hovering a good thirty feet in the air, just behind Severus and Arista, who led the way through the forest, following the elusive Scout.

"Now all we have to worry about are nosy Muggles and banging into tree trunks," Arista joked softly.

"How long d'you think he can track before he gets tired and has to rest?" Drake asked her.

Arista shrugged. "Don't know. He's got a lot of stamina, like most magehounds, but this kind of tracking's tough 'cause there are so many other scents to differentiate from. Sometimes he has to pause and let the other scents invading his nose clear before he can find the scent of evil again. Still, if I had to venture a guess, I'd say Scout'll probably track until it's dusk and then find a place to sleep."

They flew onward for another two or three hours, seeing nothing except an endless expanse of trees before Arista announced that Scout had finally decided to halt and rest for the night.

Severus removed the dog whistle from his pocket. "I'm calling him in then. He must be starving, he's run all day without food."

"Wait, Dad," Arista held up a hand. "The Hunters only use the whistle when they want their dog to quit the trail for good. We don't want him to do that. I can bring you to where he is now."

She flew off in a northwestern direction, flying easily around the trees. Some twenty minutes later they saw the dog, sitting down next to a small creek, panting slightly, his blue eyes alight with satisfaction. At their approach, he stiffened, fur bristling and snarled, something Snape had never seen him do before. Clearly he was in full Hunter mode, alert and ready for anything.

But he relaxed when he caught their scent and the snarl died and his tail wagged happily. The wizards landed next to the creek, thirsty and weary. Arista grinned at the big dog and held out a hand. Scout bounded up to her and licked her face. _Hello! I haven't lost the trail, you know. I can find it easy tomorrow, h_e sent to her.

"I know you can. You're the best magehound in America," she told him, petting his silken ears. Then she lifted his paws to examine them for cuts or thorns. To her surprise, there were none. Scout's feet were unmarked, despite the race he'd run, his pawpads crisscrossed with old scars, but otherwise were in good condition.

"His feet are fine," she reported to her father, who had knelt down to pet and praise his dog as well. "Not even scratched. And he must have run at least twenty miles or more."

Severus rumpled the fur on the back of the magehound's neck. "He's a tough dog, right, Scout?" Scout barked an affirmative, then swiped his tongue across the Potion Master's face. Severus grimaced, then smiled. "That's my good dog. You've certainly earned your reputation today." He dug into his pocket and gave the hound a large strip of beef jerky.

"He says he can pick up the trail tomorrow, no problem, Dad," Arista translated the dog's emotions. "He says it's as easy as tracking a week old bunny to its burrow."

"For him, maybe," Drake laughed, reaching out to stroke the dog as well. "For the rest of us it'd be like searching for a needle in a haystack."

Severus rose, glancing around at the creek bank and walking a bit further to the right. Here the trees weren't so thick and there was a rather large grassy space where they could pitch their tent. "I think we should camp here for tonight. We're near water and this spot looks to be far enough away from any marked trails."

He heard the faint swish of dragon wings above him and then Fireflash shimmered into view. "I'd say this looks good, Sev. But it's a bit tight for us, so we'll keep sentry over there, across the creek, on those little set of bluffs," he swung his head, indicating a small ridge some two hundred yards away. "We're gonna hunt now, I saw some pretty good sized trout in a river not far from here. We'll see you in an hour or so, and we can keep watch at night, make sure nothing sneaks up on you. Nothing sees in the dark like dragon eyes."

"I'd appreciate it, Flash," Snape thanked the dragon. Then he knelt to remove the tent from his rucksack.

He had the tent up in a matter of seven minutes, it practically set itself up after you spoke the command word. It was roomier on the inside than on the outside, allowing them plenty of space to put their sleeping bags without banging into each other. Severus put a warming charm on the inside so they wouldn't freeze during the night, because nights in Washington could get pretty cold, even during the summer. There were small hanging curtains so you could compartmentalize the tent, as well as a tiny bathroom. The bathroom was basically a Port-O-John and a basin to rinse your hands once you filled it with water, but it was better than going outside in the middle of the night. It was spelled for an air freshener and to vanish the contents when the person was done using it.

Snape quickly set up his sleeping bag and blanket, then set a folding chair in the main part of the tent, lighting it up with a Lumos spell cast on the tent pole. "Go bring me some water from the creek, Arista," he ordered, unpacking the food and a small teapot. "I'll purify the water and then we can have tea and eat something."

Drake raised an eyebrow. "The water's not safe to drink?"

"It's not that it's contaminated, but sometimes there's bacteria in it that can make you sick if you're not used to it, that's what the wizard in the store told me," Snape explained. "So, better safe than sorry. Here." He handed Drake a few packets of the water purifier. "Put this in the basin in the bathroom before you wash your hands, Drake."

Drake took the packet and did as he was told. The last thing they needed was for one of them to come down with some kind of stomach virus. He wondered if he should put a packet in Scout's water dish, then did it anyway, though he knew the dog was probably resistant to the bacteria and wouldn't get sick.

He watched the dog drink down the water eagerly, then left to wash his hands before supper.

They didn't really need a fire, since all of their food could be heated by a simple warming charm, but Severus made one anyway, small enough for a bit of heat and light, just enough to heat up the tea water. They drank a soothing mint tea with a bit of sugar and ate chicken noodle soup and cheese sandwiches. Snape conjured his dog a whole 10-ounce steak with a bone in it as a reward for the fantastic job he'd done, and they all ate hungrily.

"It's too bad we didn't bring marshmallows and graham crackers and chocolate," Arista mourned. "Then we could have made S'mores."

"We're on a mission, not a holiday," her father reminded her. "Otherwise, we would have brought dessert."

"Too bad," Drake sighed wistfully, and leaned back against a tree, dreaming of melted marshmallows and chocolate smeared on graham crackers. Their supper, while filling and pretty tasty, was nothing compared to his mother's or the professor's cooking.

Dusk fell swiftly, bringing with it all the myriad sounds of the night, owls hooting, crickets and frogs, and masses of tiny biting midges and mosquitoes. Luckily, Snape remembered the bug stuff he'd bought at the camping store and they quickly put it on before they were bitten alive.

Afterwards, he said, "I want you two to practice some meditation techniques with me before we go to sleep. If the dragons are right, one of those dark wizards out there may be skilled in Legilimency, and could be get inside your head if you're not careful. I know you can shield your emotions, Arista, but that's not quite the same thing as Occlumency. So, we're going to have a short lesson right now." He eyed Drake sternly. "Do you know meditative breathing, Mr. Lockwood?"

"Yes, sir. Arista taught me last summer," he answered.

"Good. Eyes closed and breathe in for a count of ten," the Potions Master ordered.

They practiced Occlumency for about a half an hour. Arista proved a quicker study than Drake, since she was already familiar with mental disciplines, but even she couldn't match her father, and he could get past her defenses at least half of the time. Though she tried, she only managed to break into his thoughts twice.

"Concentrate, Lockwood!" he growled at his student. "I don't want to see images of a five year old's birthday party, you're giving me too much latitude. Again!"

But eventually, when Drake could block him out for at least two or three times, he called a halt. "This is basic stuff I'm teaching you, it won't prevent one who's truly gifted from entering your mind, but it will help you block out unwanted intrusions from someone who's scanning an area. I want you two to practice making your mind empty just before you go to sleep. Erase every thought from your head and just be. A blank slate leaves nothing for a Legilimens to pick up on."

Just then they heard a low howl. It was picked up by several others, until it seemed as if the whole forest echoed with the sound of the wolves howling. Scout raised his head from his paws, where he lay by Severus's feet, and whuffed softly. But otherwise he seemed unconcerned.

Drake glanced about in alarm, his gray eyes wide. "Where are they?"

"Far away from here," Arista answered calmly. "They just sound close. Scout says not to worry, the gray brothers won't harm us, they're just singing. Wolves never attack people, not unless they're rabid, Drake."

Drake cast her a skeptical glance. "They tell you that?"

"It's a fact. There's never been a case of a healthy gray wolf attacking a person in North America. They're more afraid of us than we are of them. With good reason too. We hunted them nearly to extinction fifty years or so ago. These wolves here are part of a new program by the US Fish and Game Service to reintroduce wolves back into the national forests, where they belong."

"Fine with me, so long as they don't decide to visit us in the middle of the night," the Slytherin boy said uneasily.

"Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, Lockwood?" Arista teased, laughing. "That's a myth, you know."

"So are bronze dragons, according to the Ministry."

"The Ministry intentionally blinds itself to the truth," Snape interjected. "Don't believe everything they say, Lockwood. Half of it's lies to cover their backsides because they don't want to admit they're infallible. They allowed the Dragonslayer Guild free reign centuries ago, and the Dragon Exodus was the result. They did the same with You-Know-Who and we're still paying for it. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the fugitives we're hunting here were once followers of him."

"D'you think they're trying to drum up support for him then, sir?" Drake cried.

"Anything's possible, Lockwood. You can't underestimate them, they'll do whatever gets them results, and what they want most is power, power to do whatever they damn well please. They obviously felt they couldn't get it at home, so they moved over here and started this new operation. Only they forgot to reckon with the fact that the bronze dragons wouldn't take something like this lying down."

"Or us either," Arista added firmly.

"Right. Now, I think you two ought to get some sleep. We'll probably be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, if Scout follows procedure the way he's been trained." Severus said, scratching the sleepy hound's ear. Scout wriggled and groaned in pleasure, leaning into the Potion Master's hand for more petting. Severus was only too happy to oblige, rubbing his fingers along the dog's ear and behind it gently. Scout promptly fell asleep again, his head across Severus's knee.

The two teenagers weren't minded to protest and they disappeared inside the tent. Professor Snape remained outside, content for the moment to contemplate the stillness and the night. He considered casting wards of protection about the campsite, but then reasoned that between the dragons and Scout, they'd have ample warning if any unwanted guests came calling.

He pondered on who among his contacts among the Death Eaters might be behind this movement, but could think of none of the inner circle who would be willing to leave England, especially now, with Voldemort returned to the world. No, this must be one who was not part of the inner circle of thirteen, one who perhaps wasn't even a member, but who wanted to gain recognition by doing something particularly evil. Snape doubted that Voldemort had turned his eye on trying to conquer the western half of the world, he had his hands full just trying to subdue Britain and parts of Europe, never mind the United States.

Severus allowed himself a small grin at the mere thought of the Dark Lord trying to subdue this proud country, with its history of overthrowing tyrants. The bronze dragons alone could give Voldemort a terrific fight, never mind the Dark Hunters, and the rest of them. _You'd be in a sorry state, Riddle, if you came over here, with dragons and Hunters just waiting to kick your ass back to hell_. If he'd learned anything about Dark Hunters from his association with Colin and Jenna Flynn, it was that they weren't afraid to use deadly force when necessary. They were a lot more fierce and ruthless than their Auror counterparts, and when they needed to they could all cooperate together in a flash, and there were many of them, more than three times the number of Aurors in the entire Ministry. There were Dark Hunter Academies all over the States, though the first one had been based in New York City.

_Too bad we couldn't invite a few bronzes over and set them loose on Lucius and company. I'd love to see that smug bastard try and handle a bronze dragon in full attack mode. Or maybe two or three at once. They'd wallop him like nobody's business or my name isn't Severus Snape._ He smirked gleefully just imagining it, the arrogant suave Lucius, so quick to inflict harm on others, running for his life while above him three bronzes vied to be the one that scorched or tore him to pieces. A just reward for one who chose to go crawling back to lick the feet of the Dark Lord, to be a slave to evil instead of master of your own destiny.

He shifted slightly, for his foot was falling asleep because Scout was resting his head on it. First he would deal with these dragonslayers then he would see about Voldemort and his followers. If Dumbledore's faith in Harry Potter was not misplaced, the way he feared, Voldemort's reign of terror was about to end sooner than expected. And he, Severus Snape, would be there to watch it happen, and his redemption would be complete.

* * * * * *  
The second morning followed the same pattern as the first, with Arista, Severus, and Drake following Scout on their broomsticks and Sunstrike and Fireflash soaring overhead. The magehound was nearly tireless in his pursuit, he ran himself to the edge of exhaustion without any urging on the part of his wizard companions. The hound's drive and determination impressed the hell out of the Potions Master, who had been inclined to think that the stories of the dog had been a little exaggerated, as often happened with one who had gained celebrity status.

But watching the dog hunt for over four days soon disabused Severus of that notion completely. Lockheed's Scout was everything they said about him and more. He never seemed to lose the trail, not even when it led right over water or rocks, and such obstacles only slowed the magnificent hunter down, never stopped him. The third day he continued on into the wilderness beyond the dusk, reluctant to abandon the hunt, until Arista convinced him to stop and rest. When she examined his paws, she discovered he'd run the top layer of skin right off them. He had not even felt it, he was so focused on finding his quarry.

The little Healer fixed them up in a twinkling, and gently scolded the dog for not taking more care with his feet. Scout simply shook his head and gnawed the gigantic ham bone Severus conjured for him. _You worry too much, Arista. I'm a magehound, and a little thing like sore paws won't stop me from tracking. I always get my man, no matter how long the chase. _  
Severus estimated that they had traveled at least fifty miles or more since emerging from the portal, and in all that time they had not seen hide nor hair of another human being. They could have been the only people in the forest from their viewpoint. Except the dragons and the dog assured them they were not. This section of the forest was simply remote, further away from the hiking trails and the more populated campsites.

As they flew, Arista and Drake took turns challenging each other on recognizing plants and animals, making it a combination of Herbology and Magical Creatures Class. For the forest was home to several magical species, such as dryads, wood sprites, river nymphs, fairy dragons, and even a pride of griffins and a herd of pegasi and unicorns.

These showed themselves briefly to the traveling wizards, often offering a kind word before passing onward, respectful because of the bronze dragons, but not overawed by them.

Severus saw several rare plants and herbs that he would have loved to gather for some of his more advanced potions. He made a mental note to return this way once this quest was over and get some, for many of them were things he could only obtain by special mail order back in Britain and they cost a fortune.

The dog led them ever north and west, towards the great volcano, Mount St. Helen's, and soon enough Severus knew they would have to stop flying and start walking like ordinary Muggles. While he did not doubt there were wizard appointed forest rangers here, the majority of them were probably Muggles, and therefore could not be allowed to see magic being performed.

By the sixth day they had entered the part of the forest that was populated with tourists and it was then they had to put away their broomsticks for a time and continue on foot. As a result of the increasing number of tourists and rangers, Fireflash and Sunstrike had to fly masked way up above the clouds, for the rangers often offered tourists rides in helicopters over the volcano. The only one in the group who seemed unconcerned about their loss of speed was Scout, who simply kept hunting, following the evasive dark wizards deeper into the wilderness, counting on his wizard master and his daughter to catch up eventually.

**A/N: Just a warning, something really bad happens in the next chapter. Care to guess what it is? And as always, please review.**


	14. The Hexed Broom

**The Hexed Broom**

They reached the Mount St. Helen's visitor center at midmorning on their sixth day of traveling. Scout was by now miles ahead of them, and Arista had contacted Fireflash and asked if he wouldn't mind keeping an eye on the dog until they could catch up with him. Sunstrike had also decided to scout ahead, wanting to check out some strange looking caverns near to the volcano.

Meanwhile, Drake, Arista, and Severus decided to take advantage of civilization for a few minutes and went inside the visitor's center to buy some ice cold bottles of water and have a hot breakfast that wasn't conjured food or granola bars. They left their camping gear in the lobby with a charm to keep thieves from stealing any of it, then went into the small restaurant to eat.

From his time with Amelia, Severus had learned to purchase things in the Muggle world as well as the wizarding one, and he had a small account in his and Arista's name where he occasionally withdrew funds or deposited money every month. He had exchanged his British money for American dollars before coming over here, and therefore had no trouble paying for the few items they bought or the meal they ate.

The restaurant had a limited menu, but what they did serve was very good—homemade waffles dripping with maple syrup and butter, crispy bacon and plump sausages, scrambled eggs, country ham, pancakes with peaches, and three different kinds of toast. All of them were starving, hiking through the forest had given them monstrous appetites, and Severus ordered practically everything on the menu.

The waitress's eyebrow climbed into her hair when she took their order. "Been out in the forest awhile, have ya?"

"Uh, yes you could say that," Snape answered. "And they're teenagers, they eat like there's no tomorrow."

The waitress laughed. "Yeah, I know that for darn sure, mister. Got two of 'em at home myself, and I swear they eat me out of house and home in two seconds." She eyed Arista and Drake consideringly. "Your two look like they could use a good meal on their bones. This'll be out in a little bit. Meantime, what can I get you to drink?"

Severus had tea, Drake coffee, and Arista had apple juice, which was made from homegrown Washington apples.

Their breakfast was ready in ten minutes and they fell on it like a pack of starving wolves, devouring it down to the last crumb. The waitress returned to ask if they wanted a refill on their drinks and gaped in astonishment. "God Almighty, mister, you weren't kidding when you said you were starving. What've you all been eating out there in the woods, roots and acorns?"

"Granola bars," Drake answered.

"Trail mix," Arista added.

"Chicken soup mostly," Severus admitted.

"That's about what I figgered. You ain't from around here are you?"

"No. We're from London, here on a holiday," Drake answered. "We came here to see the volcano and the forest."

"Really? You came from all that way just to see St. Helen's?" she sounded delighted. "You won't be disappointed. She's still a fireball, though we keep an eye on her pretty sharp. Were you planning on climbing up her or taking one of the helicopters over?"

"We like to hike," Severus answered. "We've climbed some pretty good mountains in Scotland."

"Now that's beautiful country, I hear. Maybe I'll get over there someday," the waitress said wistfully. "Still, where I'm at ain't nothin' to sneer at. Although you might want to watch out for the bears. Seems there's one in the area that's a little touched or something."

"You mean like rabies?" Arista queried, alarmed. Scout was out there alone, and they had enough to worry about with the necromancers to want to add rabid grizzlies into the mix.

"No, that's not it," the waitress lowered her voice. "This isn't like that at all. There have been strange reports, is all, of people finding dead animals out on the trails. But they weren't killed for food, 'cause the carcasses were practically whole. Only, some of the parts was . . .missing." She leaned down to whisper her next words practically in Snape's ear. "They found raccoons and a deer and even a small gray wolf, all killed and left there, and the raccoons and the wolf was missing their heads and the deer had its heart cut out. Real odd behavior for an animal . . .even a bear."

"Where was this?" Severus queried, a cold chill going down his spine. Sunstrike was right. Those are ritual killings, the work of a thaumaturge. No animal would ever take just the heads or hearts of its prey.

"Not up on the volcano, but around there, in maybe a twenty mile radius, I guess. The rangers were warning all the campers not to leave any food lying about where a bear can smell it and especially not to feed 'em. They think it could be somebody's pet bear gone bad or something." She shook her head. "Weird. Ain't seen nothing like this ever and I been here for over fifteen years. Well, enjoy your trip to the volcano. Hope I didn't frighten you none."

Arista shook her head. "Our school is haunted by ghosts, so bears don't frighten us all that much."

The waitress laughed again. "Ghosts, huh? Like that Queen Anne in the Tower of London that got her head cut off by Henry VIII? That's enough to give me goosebumps right there. Rangers are out hunting the critter, so I wouldn't worry too much 'bout it. I'll get your check then."

Arista exchanged worried glances with her father and Drake, but they said nothing until they had reclaimed their backpacks and broomsticks from the lobby and were well away from the visitor's center, hiking down a trail that led north towards the volcano.

"Dad, you heard what she said," Arista hissed in an undertone as they walked along. She practically had to run to keep up with Professor Snape's long strides. "That's no bear killing those animals."

"I know. That's the work of a thaumaturge, like Sunstrike said. Apparently, he needs more power and is using the ritual death of animals to get it since he can't hunt any more dragons just yet." Snape whispered.

"But why leave the bodies lying about where people can find them, sir?" Drake asked softly. "Isn't that kind of a stupid thing to do?"

Snape nodded. "Yes, unless the wizard has an ulterior motive in doing so. Normally, he'd hide the evidence, unless he wants it to be known, as a means to put fear into the Muggles around here. Sort of like the way people used to hang skulls and bones at crossroads to discourage robbers."

"Maybe he wants people to be so scared they'll stop coming near here, and then he can practice his disgusting magic all he wants and nobody will know," Arista surmised.

"That makes sense," Drake said. "He's probably afraid of being discovered by someone, so he needs to get them away from here, and what better way to scare somebody than to leave a dead mutilated body lying around?"

"Ugh!" Arista shivered. "Makes me sick just thinking about it." Her face hardened. "This thaumaturge, whoever he is, has a lot to answer for. Torturing helpless animals as well as dragons for the fun of it! He ought to be thrown into a pit with a few dozen starving wild animals and see how he likes being their prey."

Drake stared at her. "Not too bloodthirsty are you, Arista?"

She shrugged. "It'd be no more than he deserves. People that abuse animals are lower than pond slime in my opinion." She extended her senses outward, linking with Scout. "That way," she pointed to a stand of trees off to the right, off the trail.

They followed her unhesitatingly, trusting her empathy to guide them. Once they were among the trees and off the trail, Drake asked, "Think we're far enough away from people to risk using our brooms?"

Snape considered. "Let's walk a bit further, I don't want to take the chance of some kid or nosy hiker spotting us. Then we can fly, we need to inform Fireflash of this latest bit of news as soon as we can."

Something about the pattern this necromancer was displaying nagged at the back of Severus's brain. The slaying of animals for sport, the apparent disregard for authority, or the feelings of others, all of that smacked of a deviant personality, a psychopathic nature. And yet . . .there was something oddly familiar about it too, though Snape couldn't put his finger on what it was. He sighed softly, hoping eventually it would come to him.

They walked for about another two miles, hiking through straight wilderness now, where the poplars and oaks and maples grew together thickly, forming a hazy green canopy overhead. Then Snape halted and beckoned Arista over. "How far away are we from Scout now?"

She considered. "I'd say about ten or twelve miles by now, if not more."

"Can you sense any people nearby?"

She closed her eyes, concentrating hard. "Not really. All the die-hard hikers are to the right of us, on the lower slopes of the volcano or heading up towards it. But in the immediate area, there's nobody but us."

The Potions Master was silent for a few more minutes, then at last he nodded and said, "All right. We can fly for part of the way. Arista, you go first, since you're linked to Scout. I'll follow a few minutes afterwards, and then Drake. Remember, if you spot anyone below you, land as quickly as you can, or cast a concealment spell."

"Yes, sir," Arista replied, then unhooked her broom from her pack and mounted it. She was riding a Banshee 2000, a grade lower than the Nimbus's.

Within minutes, she was up and away, flying quickly yet cautiously across the sky.

Snape mentally counted off five minutes before he mounted his own broom, an Aerial Windstorm, which used to be a professional Quidditch broom a long time ago, before the Nimbus 2000 line replaced it.

"Wait five minutes, then follow me," Snape instructed, then kicked off and was airborne. He focused on the small figure in front of him, drawing closer to her.

Drake held his own broom in his left hand, timing himself with his watch. He had a Nimbus 2001, a gift from one of his uncles for Christmas. Uncle Mike was still hoping he could get Drake to try out for Quidditch, even though Drake knew he didn't have a prayer of making the House team. He was quick and agile, true, but all the players on the Slytherin team were enemies of his, kids that delighted in torturing him before Arista had come along and helped him put a stop to it. Drake could not forget or forgive that, and he knew he could never stand to be three minutes in their company. So his uncle's dreams of his nephew being the Slytherin Seeker would never come true.

But just because he wasn't on a House team didn't mean he didn't know how to fly well, he thought, checking his watch again. _One more minute. There! Now I can fly._ He glanced around to make sure no one was about, then threw a leg over his Nimbus 2001.

The broom quivered oddly as he kicked off, and Drake wondered if it needed some new straw sections added to it or maybe a better flight charm regulator. He soared into the air, smiling at the familiar rush that flying always brought him. _Okay, Lockwood, let's catch up to the professor. _He leaned forward over his broom and mentally urged it to go faster.

Suddenly the broom trembled, as if it were about to fall apart. Drake clung wildly to it. Then it shot across the sky like a bolt of lightning, faster than Drake had ever dreamed of going. The boy gasped in delight at first, but then he tried to slow the broom down to a more reasonable speed before his professor caught sight of him and realized he was totally out of control.

_Holy God, it won't obey me!_ he thought frantically, trying to pull up on it. "Stop, damn you!" he yelled. "Slow down, you bloody twig!"

But the broom refused to heed him, increasing it s speed and bucking like a runaway bronco. Terrified now, Drake wrapped his arms about it and hung on for dear life. _Please, please, somebody make it stop_, he prayed fervently as the broom climbed higher into the sky.

He saw Professor Snape just ahead of him, flying calmly on his Windstorm. "_Professor_!" he shouted.

Snape turned about at his cry. "Lockwood, what the hell are you doing?" he snapped, his eyes blazing. "Quit showing off and get back down here."

"I-I _can't_, sir!" Drake yelled. "It's hexed or something."

The broom chose to spin in a circle at that moment, then shot back the way he'd come, going at a speed that was suicidal.

Drake screamed, unable to help himself.

Snape's eyes widened. Then he kicked his Windstorm into the fastest speed it could give him and flew after his student, mumbling a counter-curse as he did so.

But unlike the Quidditch match where he'd saved Harry, this time he wasn't fast enough. He recognized the hex set upon Lockwood's broom, it was a nasty one called Hellride, designed to seriously injure the rider at the very least, at worst it could kill. He knew how to counter it, but he wasn't in range for the spell to have much effect, and all he managed to do was slow the broom down somewhat.

"Professor, help me!" Drake yowled, as the broom jerked wildly, then flipped over and shot down towards the ground like a thunderbolt, carrying the helpless Drake along with it on a one way trip to the center of the earth.

Snape plunged downward too, gesturing frantically and spitting out the counter-curse for all he was worth. He knew even as he did so that it wasn't enough. "Lockwood, jump!" he shouted. "Get off the damn broom! Do it!"

But the kid was either too frightened to do as he said or couldn't hear him through the wind the hexed broom was kicking up, because he remained on the wildly flying Nimbus until the last second, when he threw himself off and crashed into the ground.

The broom smashed into the earth a second later, hitting so hard it burst into kindling, utterly destroyed despite Snape's counter-curse.

"Drake?" Snape called, landing immediately afterwards and running over to the still form of the young apprentice. "Damn you, Lockwood, don't you _dare_ be dead," he cried, kneeling beside the boy and feeling for a pulse.

It was there, faint, but the boy was alive. Snape breathed again. Then he began examining him for injuries, deftly feeling his head and arms and legs. Cursory as his exam was, he could tell that Lockwood was in a bad way. He thought the boy might have broken at least two ribs, a leg, and possibly a hip as well. He was also bleeding from a cut on the back of his head.

Snape reached into a pocket for his handkerchief and tried to stanch the blood flowing from Drake's head, while turning the ring on his hand and calling Arista on the spellophone. "Arista! Turn around and come back immediately. There's been an accident and Drake's hurt badly. We need you NOW! Follow my empathic signature. Hurry!"

The ring chimed. "On my way, Dad! Hang on!"

Severus knew she would try her best, but the hexed broom had carried poor Drake further away than he'd intended, and Snape feared it would be eight or maybe ten minutes before Arista could get there. He cradled Drake's head on his knee and said, "Arista's coming to heal you, Drake. You hear me? Just hang on a little bit longer."

Snape wasn't sure if it was better for the boy to remain unconscious or not, because knocked out at least he wasn't in so much pain.

Suddenly, the boy stirred, moaning, and Severus shifted to hold his shoulders down, preventing him from moving as much as possible. "Drake, be still! It's Professor Snape, I've got you, now don't move. Be still, okay?"

Drake's eyelids fluttered. Then he opened them, staring wildly up at his teacher. "I-I . . ." he gasped, his face twisting in agony.

"Easy, Lockwood. I know it hurts. Look at me." Severus ordered, locking gazes with the boy. "Good. Focus on me. That's right."

Drake's eyes filled with tears. "H-hurts . . .s-so b-bad . . .P-Professor . . ." he began to sob.

"I know, son. Listen to me. I'm going to cast a Body Bind on you, it might help a bit." Snape told him, drawing his wand. "_Petrificus Totalis_! There. How's that feel?"

Drake's mouth worked, then he said through gritted teeth, "B-better . . ." More tears trickled down his face. "H-How . . .?" he couldn't finish that sentence, he was too busy trying not to scream.

"You're going to be fine, Drake, I promise," Snape lied swiftly, praying that he was right. "Arista's on her way right now and she'll heal you up in a flash." He gently blotted the tears from the boy's face with the handkerchief. "Listen to me, Lockwood. I want you to concentrate on me. Look at me." He waited until Drake was looking into his eyes. "Good. I know it hurts, but I want you to try and ignore it. Breathe with me, Lockwood. In and out. One, two, three, four. Come on, you can do it."

"I-I . . .c-can't . . .h-hurts . . .!"

"Yes you can. Do it, Lockwood! That's an order!" Snape growled, deliberately using a harsh tone to keep the boy focused on him. "Breathe, like this. One, two, three, four. Say it with me. Come on."

Gasping, Drake managed to repeat the sequence, breathing shallowly, sobbing in agony.

"That's right. Now we do it again. One. Two. Three. Four. Don't think, Lockwood. Just breathe. Focus on me, son. The pain is nothing. Nothing. All that matters is breathing. One. Two. Three. Four."

Gradually, Severus managed to coax the boy into a semi-meditative trance, alleviating some of the agony. It was all he could think of to do, for he knew nothing in his little medical kit would be able to help the child._ Arista, damn you! Where are you? The kid's in agony here and all I can do is talk to him. _He knew that he wasn't being fair to his daughter, who was probably flying as swiftly as she dared, tracking him by her empathic link to him. He glanced down at his watch, and saw that only five minutes had gone by. It seemed much longer.

"Keep counting, Drake," he urged, wiping away the tears and sweat from his face. He repeated the sequence of breaths again, gently massaging the boy's temples, trying to relieve some of the tension and get him to relax as much as possible. "Look at me, Lockwood. Only me. And breathe. Let the pain go. Let it go."

"Dad!" Arista cried, landing on the ground so quickly her teeth rattled. "What the hell happened?"

"His broom, somebody hexed it. A Hellride spell," Snape answered curtly. "Never mind that now though, just heal him, for Godsake." He cradled Drake's head in his lap, his face ashen.

Arista was already summoning up her talent, her arms began to glow with white fire as she walked over to them. "You're gonna be okay, Drake," she soothed, blinking back tears of sympathetic agony as she touched him. Unlike Fireflash's healing, she did not need to link with her friend so deeply, and she kept a portion of herself walled off, so that she didn't absorb all of his pain at once.

She slipped pain blocks into place and Drake relaxed and sagged into Professor Snape's arms, passing out as the dreadful pain ceased. Arista could feel the Body Bind her father had set on him as she worked, but it didn't hinder her, so she allowed it to remain.

Her analytical mind automatically catalogued each injury as she healed it. First, the three broken ribs and the cracked collarbone. They were swiftly mended, her white fire knitted them back together in mere moments. Then she moved on to the wrenched back and the broken hip and also the fractured left leg. The white fire swept through him, cleansing and restoring, mending what had been broken, straightening what had torn asunder. The various bruises and contusions, including the cut on his head, were the last things she healed.

But at last she was done, and Drake Lockwood was whole once again. She removed the pain blocks, gently erasing the memory of his agony from his mind with her empathic touch. That was something she'd not been able to do for Flash, she'd spent too much of her power just trying to keep him alive.

She removed her hands from Drake's arm, the white fire vanishing. Drake groaned then opened his eyes. He took an experimental breath . . .let it out slowly . . .and smiled in relief. "Thank you God!" he wept softly. "It doesn't hurt."

"How do you feel, Drake?" Arista asked, grinning at him.

He lifted his head, the only part of his body he could move. "I feel wonderful. But I can't move!" he cried, panicking. "Why can't I move?" His eyes flashed utter horror as he thought, _Don't tell me I'm paralyzed or something, please!_

"Relax, Lockwood," Professor Snape said. "You can't move because of my Body Bind spell. It'll wear off in a bit, so calm down."

Drake flushed, embarrassed. "Oh. I thought . . .that I was . . .you know . . ."

"Paralyzed?" Arista finished gently. "Not a chance. I can heal even that, Drake. You weren't even close to it."

"Honest?" his eyes met hers.

"Swear on my mom's grave," she answered solemnly, picking up his hand and squeezing it gently.

Drake smiled tentatively. "Okay." Then he sighed impatiently. "How much longer is this spell gonna last, Professor?"

"It should be wearing off right about now," Snape answered.

Sure enough, as soon as he said that, Drake was able to move his foot and as the spell wore off, he could sit up, though his arms and legs tingled ferociously. Arista touched him and the annoying feeling vanished. But when he tried to stand he found he was too weak to even get to his feet.

"What's wrong with me?" he cried. "I don't have any strength in my legs."

"That happens sometimes after a major healing," Arista told him. "Your body used up a good deal of your strength when I healed you, and now it needs to rest. But you'll be fine after a good night's rest, Drake."

"In the meantime, I'll carry you," Severus said, and lifted the boy into his arms effortlessly.

Drake flushed, wishing he could die. He turned his face away from his teacher's gaze, burying his nose in Snape's jacket, which smelled like mint and spice. He breathed it in and suddenly felt extremely sleepy. _I'll just close my eyes for a bit . . .pretend I'm home in bed . . ._In mere moments he had fallen asleep, his head cradled in the crook of Severus's arm.

"We should look for a place to camp, Dad," his daughter said. "He needs to sleep in a decent bed and I'm tired too." She yawned. "How did this happen anyway?"

"Obviously, someone with ties to the Dragonslayer Guild noticed our brooms and decided to hex one. I don't understand why only one, or if maybe he got interrupted before he could do all of ours, but that doesn't really matter now. What matters is that somebody out there knows about us, and I don't like that at all."

"But how? We were careful, we saw no one while we were flying through the forest."

"I know, but nevertheless somebody out there doesn't like us. That was no prank, the Hellride curse is one you use when you don't want your rival to fly ever again, and he ends up in a hospital bed or a casket. You can see what's left of his broom." Snape gestured to the scattered splinters of what had once been a Nimbus 2001.

Arista looked, then swore furiously, not caring if her father heard her.

Snape did not bother to reprimand her, for she was merely saying what he wanted to. "Come on, let's find somewhere to set up the tent. Tell Scout we'll catch up to him in the morning. And tell Flash what happened too."

"Right," Arista said, lowering her shields and contacting each of them in turn. "Flash says he's glad everything's okay now and it's too bad he wasn't there, he might have been able to prevent the accident entirely."

"If wishes were horses . . ." Snape began, shifting Drake a bit in his arms.

" . . .beggars would ride," Arista finished. "He also says that he'll keep an eye on Scout for us, make sure no necromancer tries to target him. He says he'll send Sunny back to keep watch once we've made camp too."

Snape nodded, now preoccupied with finding a suitable campsite. His eye was caught by a small ridge, surrounded on three sides by a stand of ash and maple. "That looks like as good a place as any." He pointed to it.

"Sure does, sir." Arista said, and quickened her pace.

They set up the tent and Drake's sleeping bag in a matter of minutes, placing the slumbering teenager on it and covering him with the blanket. "He should sleep till morning," Arista informed her father, then she too fell on her bed and slept.

Severus knelt and tugged off her shoes and covered her as well before going outside the tent to keep watch for Sunny. This time he cast every protective ward he knew about the campsite. Then he made some tea and sat down, sipping it slowly.

The use of the Hellride curse on the broom had finally jarred his memory. He could recall only too well now an incident that had occurred in his third year of teaching. During a Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match, the Gryffindor Seeker Arnie Marlow had nearly been killed because someone had cast Hellride on his broom. That time, it had been Snape and Dumbledore who had saved the boy, though he'd been two weeks mending from his busted ankle. They had never discovered the identity of the student who had cursed Marlowe, though Snape strongly suspected it had been Gerald Crouch, because he had caught the boy smirking behind his hand whenever Marlowe's accident was mentioned.

Snape had never trusted the boy ever since he'd found him torturing Maverick, and he kept a strict eye on him. Maverick hated the boy, he was the only child the dog ever growled at, and the professor had to keep the big dog out of Crouch's sight lest Maverick be tempted to bite him.

That day, however, he'd confronted the little sneak, demanding to know why he hadn't seen him in the stands at the match. Gerald had made up some pitiful excuse, one that Snape didn't believe for a minute, but had to accept, since he had no proof the boy had been misbehaving. But he could recall exactly the gleam of triumph in the boy's eyes when he looked at the broken wreck of Marlowe's broom.

"Rotten luck for Gryffindor, eh, sir? But bloody good luck for us Slytherins, I say. We won the championship again." And he'd smiled at his Head of House cheekily, making Severus long to haul off and slap him one, the smug brat.

"So it would seem. Dismissed, Crouch," he said, and waved him off. _Damn you, I know you were behind that, you little monster, but I can't prove it, which means that you walk free for now. But one day, Mr. Crouch, there will come a reckoning, and you'll pay in full for your wicked ways, boy. _  
But despite his vigilance, Snape had never been able to catch the boy in anything more than minor misdeeds, though when he did have an excuse to punish him, he did so unsparingly, giving Gerald the worst detentions and the most boring assignments he could think up. Gerald was one of the few students in Slytherin that he could remember hating with such passion, not even Brittany Marsh had ever roused his ire that way.

When Gerald was in his last year at Hogwarts, and it came time for the Heads of the Houses to review their students and recommend career paths for them, Severus had to bite his lip from suggesting Gerald would make a wonderful Death Eater. Either that or a good candidate for Azkaban.

_And I was right, for look at what he's become. If he is behind this, and I find myself honestly thinking he is, than he's just as bad a criminal as his cousin Barty ever was. A fanatic and a murderer with no conscience, who still enjoys torturing and abusing animals as much as he ever did when he was eleven and I caught him tormenting my dog. I warned Dumbledore about him, I told him that here was one child that was beyond saving, that he was pure evil. You didn't believe me then, Albus, you said I was being too harsh in my judgement. What would you say now, I wonder, old friend? Because I have a gnawing feeling that the thaumaturge and the leader behind all these attacks on Fireflash's people is Gerald Crouch, my former student. _  
Snape's hands balled into fists. _And if I'm right, this time I'm going to do much more than give him a detention. Very much more, this I swear by all that I am. For I'm no longer bound by school rules, Crouch, and I can at last give you the punishment you deserve, you sick manipulative bastard. _

_  
_**A/N: Well, is Sev right? And how did you think he handled Drake's being injured? Did he do a good job?**


	15. Something Wicked

**Something Wicked**

Drake awoke the next morning fully restored, much to his relief. His legs were functional again and he could walk on his own, though he felt weak and achy upon first rising. He suspected, however, that it would go away once he ate something, and thus he emerged from the tent into the bright sunshine of a new day. Professor Snape was already awake, sitting cross-legged in front of the tiny fire, a small teapot boiling over the flames, eating one of the preserved breakfast sandwiches they had packed, heated with a minor warming charm.

"Morning, Professor," Drake greeted his teacher, seating himself gingerly on the ground, for his legs were threatening to fold up under him like a day old unicorn foal's. He ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to get it to lie flat.

"How are you feeling, Drake?" Snape inquired, handing the boy a cup of chamomile green tea and a breakfast sandwich of sausage, egg, and cheese.

"Much better than I was yesterday, sir," he replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. He shivered simply recalling the excruciating pain and the insane ride on the hexed broomstick. He took a sip of the tea, finding the taste pleasantly sweet and revitalizing. "Thanks for helping me, Professor."

Snape shrugged, embarrassed. "Arista's the one who saved you really, Lockwood. All I did was supply a bit of moral support. But you're welcome anyhow."

Drake simply nodded, though they both knew that Severus's moral support had meant more to the boy than either would ever say. Drake had feared he was going to go insane from the pain after he'd regained consciousness on the forest floor, and it was only Snape's voice that had brought him back from the brink of utter panic. He had never been so grateful for his professor's matter-of-fact, pragmatic, quiet attitude as he'd been then, awash in agony and terrified out of his mind. _My dad couldn't have done any better, if he'd been here, _Drake thought. _They're wrong, those idiots in Gryffindor, when they say he doesn't give a damn about his students. He cares more than anyone knows, even if he'll never admit it. And not just for Slytherins either. He'd have done the same for any student hurt the way I was, no matter their House. He's the one you can count on when all seems lost, above and beyond any other Hogwarts professor, except maybe Dumbledore. I doubt if any of them could have dealt with my accident half as well. Without him talking me through the pain and forcing me to meditate, I would have been a screaming wreck in two minutes._ He didn't think he could have borne the embarrassment and shame of that, and so was doubly grateful for his teacher and his daughter for saving him.

Drake sipped his tea, finished his sandwich, and gazed out at the peaceful forest landscape, hiding a knowing smile as he did so. No doubt about it, there was more to his strict Potions Master than met the eye. He hid his compassionate nature well, but Drake knew it was there, nevertheless.

Arista came out of the tent, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a purple shirt and black jeans. Her short auburn hair was tousled and there were dark circles beneath her eyes, but otherwise she looked no worse for wear after performing her second major healing in a month.

"Morning," she murmured, accepting the cup of tea from her father and another sandwich. She seated herself at Snape's elbow, close to the fire, and drank down half the tea in one gulp. Then she looked at Drake questioningly. "You all right, Drake?"

"Yeah. A little tired and sore, but otherwise I'm okay. You?"

"A good night's sleep and breakfast always replenishes my powers." She began to eat her sandwich.

"Have you ever figured out just what your limit is, Arista?" Drake asked, pouring himself a second cup of tea.

She was quiet for a minute, thinking, then she said, "I've never really tested it, but Fireflash's experience with dragonbane pushed me pretty close, I'd say. My gift's strong, Drake, but I'm not omnipotent."

"Pretty darn close though," her friend acknowledged. "Lucky it was my broom they hexed though, instead of yours, else we'd of been in real trouble."

"Lucky? How can you say that, Lockwood? You could have _died_!" she gaped at him.

"Because if you had been hurt, who would have healed you?" He pointed out. "Neither of us can mend broken bones like you and your power doesn't work on yourself. So it was lucky they got me instead. I'm expendable."

"That's not true! _None_ of us are expendable, Lockwood. Not in my book."

Drake snorted. "That's why you're a better Healer than a Dark Hunter, Arista. You don't have a Hunter's objectivity."

"And I'm glad of it, if it means having to choose what member of my family or my friends I have to sacrifice next," Arista stated firmly.

"You're not thinking like a Dark Hunter then." Drake said ruthlessly. "Otherwise you'd know I'm right."

"No you're not, Drake," she flared, her dark eyes snapping. "The only people who are expendable in my opinion are the dragonslayers. No one else. That's the only choice I'm willing to make."

"You're not being logical, Arista," he argued.

"So? I'm a Healer. Logic is the last thing I'm concerned about when it comes to fixing people."

Snape smirked behind his mug of tea, watching them, logic and emotion, both stubborn as hell and neither willing to give an inch. It reminded him keenly of the way he and Amelia used to argue, long ago and far away.

"Neither of you will have to worry about sacrificing yourselves," he cut in before the disagreement could escalate into a true fight. "Because you won't be fighting the dragonslayers. I will."

"And the dragons," Drake added.

Snape nodded. "Yes, and between us we'll handle whatever they throw at us." He eyed the two younger wizards sternly. "So, I'll remind you again what you promised me at the beginning of this quest. When the fighting starts, you stay out of the way and let us draw their fire, no arguments. Because neither of you are expendable in my book, and I've no time for foolish heroics. Our objective is to stop the dragonslayers and come home safe. I refuse to attend a funeral with you as the guest of honor, Mr. Lockwood, so get that idea out of your head immediately."

"And I refuse to attend a funeral in _your_ honor, Dad." Arista put in firmly. "So keep yourself alive, Potions Master."

"I will," he promised. Then he put out the fire with a wave of his wand. "Let's get moving. We won't catch them sitting on our behinds talking about it. Arista, can you still sense Scout?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. "He's still on the trail and closing."

"Good. That's what I'd hoped." The professor turned to Drake. "Sorry about your broom, Lockwood. We'll replace it once we get back to the Amarottis. In the meantime, you can ride with me."

"Yes, sir," Drake sighed, suppressing an instinctive shiver of dread. After yesterday, he wasn't sure if he could ever fly again without recalling the last dreadful moments of that wild ride, when he was sure he was going to die. Of course, he would never admit that, so he simply swallowed sharply and turned away to pack up his sleeping bag. At least if he was flying with Snape he didn't need to worry about the professor picking up on any residual nervousness from his mind.

A shadow covered the ground and when Arista looked up she saw Sunstrike hovering above them. The golden bronze dragon dipped her head to them and grinned toothily. "Are you all set?"

Severus finished shoving the dismantled tent into his rucksack, then straightened and said, "We'll be ready to fly in about five minutes, Sunstrike."

"There's no need to rush, Severus. Flash is flying recon after your magehound, so we won't lose him," she said. "There's something dark in this section of the forest, a shadow hovers here, full of despair and blood."

"You sense it too?" Arista asked. "I thought it was just me, letting my imagination run away with me."

Sunstrike shook her massive head emphatically. "No, Healer Snape. There's been ritual blood magic performed here, there's no mistaking the aura. Or the stench." Her lip curled in disgust. "I can taste it in the back of my throat like a rotten fish head. Trust your instincts, little Healer. They'll rarely mislead you, if you're anything like your mother. Empathic intuition is better than most, almost on a par with draconic instinct."

Severus quickly shrank his rucksack to the size of a small purse and slung it over his back for easy transportation while flying. Then he mounted his Windstorm, gesturing for Drake to get on behind him. "There have been reports of animals in this area missing heads or hearts. The Muggles think it's a rabid bear, but I know better."

"That's no animal, that's the work of a ritualist desperate to gain power for some great working." Sunstrike confirmed. "Mark my words, he'll reveal himself before too long. I only hope that the Advocate hasn't fallen afoul of him, though I fear he may have, since he hasn't checked in with Flash or Sardonyx in over a week."

Arista feared that the dragon was correct, for her dreams had been filled with darkness and blood and a young woman weeping, though she mentioned none of this to her companions. She knew her father's opinion of precognitive dreams and she was unsure if they were real or not, for she had never manifested such talent before. Perhaps it was only the dark aura from the ritualist's spellcasting that was affecting her subconscious. As an empath, she was unusually sensitive to such things. She resolved to put stronger shields up before going to sleep that night. For now, though, she needed to lower her shields so she could follow Scout's progress.

Mounted on her Banshee 2000, she could track the dog's emotions effortlessly, he was a bright spark in her head, drawing her ever onward, full of determination to find the dark wizard and bring him to justice. She knew there were plenty of people who would argue that the dog had no concept of justice, that he was simply hunting because he was bred for it and he'd been trained to track down criminals. Part of that was true, Scout did enjoy the chase and he knew how to follow a trail from all of his training sessions, but the dog did indeed understand why he was tracking this particular wizard and he hungered to bring in his quarry, dead or alive. That was his job, what he did best, and he would never quit until the hunt was over.

She could sense also how contemptuous he was of the one he hunted, for the wizard was not even bothering to disguise his aura, it was as plain as day for those who could smell magic. _Stupid, very stupid man. Not like the ones I hunted before this. They were a challenge, at least. But this one is like finding a ham bone in the middle of a lawn, a puppy could track this fool with no problem. _

Arista smiled at the dog's sneering estimation of the necromancer. Clearly Scout was not impressed by the ritualist, even if he had killed five dragons. And the fact that the wizard was not attempting to shield his aura from the likes of a magehound told Arista that her father's assumption that he was a British wizard was correct. For any wizard raised in the US knew of a magehound's uncanny ability to track magic, and took precautions with their magical aura. Either the wizard really _was_ too stupid or too arrogant, which Arista supposed might be the case, or he didn't know about magehounds because he came from Britain, where they no longer had them. Arista suspected strongly the latter was probably true. Which was all to the good, for the sooner they found the necromancer, the sooner they could end the threat posed by him and his little band of dragonslayers once and for all.

She too burned with righteous wrath against the murderers who had dared to break Dragon's Oath and presume to hunt her friend and his family as if they were mere rabbits. _They deserve a life sentence in Inferno at the very least. Though if the dragons have their way, they won't ever see the inside of Inferno's cells. The last thing they'll see is a dragon breathing fire at them, or biting them to death, and then they'll spend the rest of eternity with the devil and learn the true meaning of suffering. _She felt a small glow of satisfaction at that, and the compassionate part of her nature winced at her bloodthirstiness. _Was this how Mom felt when she was hunting down a criminal? I know it's wrong to pray for another's death, but these people deserve it, for what they've done is unforgivable. I hope Fireflash and Sunstrike and Dad kick their asses good, teach them what it means to mess with bronze dragons and their allies. _

Sunstrike flew slightly to the right and above them, well above the treetops now, where her wings wouldn't get caught in the branches. Far ahead, the smoking top of St. Helen's could now be seen, a brooding slice of rock against the horizon. This was the first time Arista had ever caught a glimpse of the national monument, and she drank in the awesome sight eagerly. It was too bad she had to see the volcano under such circumstances, for she would have liked to study it more closely, but unfortunately, that wasn't possible now. Although maybe later, when their mission had been completed, she could talk her dad into staying an extra day so she could tour the volcano. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and who knew when she'd ever be back here?

"Sunstrike, do you bronzes ever bathe in the hot springs, the way some other dragon species do?" Drake asked, trying to keep his mind off the fact that he was flying on a broom a mere ten hours after his near fatal crash.

Sunstrike, who could hear him perfectly, despite her distance from the pair, answered, "Sometimes we do, especially if we've been injured and need the heat to relax muscles that have stiffened. Our elders often come here to soak, for the springs have amazing mineral properties, and are extremely relaxing and soothing, especially if you're in the last month of pregnancy and want to take some weight off your claws."

"How long do you carry a clutch before laying it?" Drake asked, then blushed, realizing too late that the question might have been rude. He'd forgotten he wasn't discussing facts with another veterinarian or assistant. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Lady."

"Offend me?" Sunstrike seemed amused. "Not at all, young one. I would never be offended by an honest question. To begin with, we don't lay eggs like our cousins in Europe. Bronze dragons bear their young alive, like mammals. We're born with a soft egg sac around us for protection, because a newborn's scales are sensitive to sunlight for the first few days, but after that the sac dries up and falls away, since our scales have hardened enough to protect us from the sun's rays. That's the only time a bronze ever needs to fear getting sunburn," she said with a soft chuckle. "An average pregnancy for us lasts anywhere from eleven to twelve months, longer if the mother is bearing multiple dragonets, which doesn't happen often. Most of us are born singly, like you humans."

"Really? I never knew that dragons reproduced that way," Drake said, astonished by Sunstrike's information. "I always thought they were like snakes or lizards and laid clutches of eggs."

"Our European cousins do, since they evolved in a place where it was safer to hatch their young, but we bronzes had nothing to fear from humans here, and thus we bore our young alive. Some snakes do this too, like the copperhead or the diamondback rattler, but their young reach maturity within a week or two and can fend for themselves. A bronze dragon isn't counted an adult until he's at least a century old and has learned enough wisdom to shut his mouth most of the time in the presence of his elders."

"Is Stormstrider considered an adult then?"

"Unfortunately for the rest of us, yes," Sunstrike said with a sigh. "He still hasn't learned to control his more impulsive tendencies yet, but I'll wager he will after Sardonyx and Thundersky get through with him. What he said at the Council meeting was offensive in the extreme, to us as well as you. I hope you don't think his bigoted opinion is what we bronzes feel about you humans, because he's in the minority. He'll be lucky if Sardonyx doesn't put him on probation for insulting a Healer that way, never mind two who are life debt holders. He behaved worse than a twenty-five year old dragonet, if that's possible. I'll never understand why Thundersky nominated him as a candidate."

"How does one become a member of the Council?" Severus wanted to know.

"They are sponsored first by a current Council member, which is usually a relative or a member of the same clan. Then, after they've passed a series of tests set forth by their sponsor and the Leader of the Council, they are sworn in as a Council member. It's not an inherited position or anything, and members can resign or be cast out by their colleagues if they aren't doing a good job, or if their views are so controversial that it causes problems among the clans and the wizards. It is the job of the Council to mediate disputes, not cause them, and to govern our people wisely and justly. It's a coveted position, to be a Council member is a great honor, though it also entails great responsibility, which is why most dragons only are members for about fifty years or so. Though some, like Sardonyx, are so well respected that they are allowed to remain for over a century, provided they rule well. If not, we can always vote them out, ours is a very democratic society, and even the Council doesn't have absolute power over all bronzes, though when we speak, most of the time we are heeded. Unless you spout stupidity, like Stormstrider, whose mother spoiled him as a dragonet, I'd wager." Sunstrike said scornfully.

"His father was one of our war heroes, and he probably grew up with an over-exaggerated idea of his own self importance, being the only child of Brightlance and Carnelian. Not something that would have ever happened in my clan, but then we Silver Talons pride ourselves on respectability, fairness, and fidelity."

"What clan is Stormstrider?" Severus queried.

"He's from the Fire Spark clan, and they're known for their beauty, arrogance, and reckless courage, among other things. Stormstrider is a typical Sparkian, which is why he gets on my nerves something fierce. I can't abide his attitude. He makes me want to knock him into the next galaxy."

"What about the Brightwings, Fireflash's clan? What are they known for?"

"Swiftness of flight, leadership, and magic. Most of our Council Leaders are from Brightwings and some of our best mages also. Aventurine was one of our star flyers, the only one who could ever match him for aerial maneuvers was his apprentice, Fireflash. A lot of Brightwings volunteer as transportation to wizards and several of them join the Dark Hunters, they get along the best with you wizards out of all the clans, though my own is a close second."

"How many clans are there?"

"Seven, and all of them are supposed to have equal representation on the Council. But one clan, Fire Onyx, gave up their seat after they spawned the traitor, the Shadowspawn, whom you wizards know as Obsidian." Sunstrike said the name as if it were bad tasting. "That's why Fire Spark has two members instead of one on the Council. The other clans are Mystic Blaze, that's the Seer clan, Moon Spear, where most of our warriors come from, and Dawn Heart, who are lorekeepers and Healers, mostly. Citrine is from Dawn Heart and Tiger Eye, who was so distraught over her son's death, is from Moon Spear. Brightfire is, of course, from Mystic Blaze, and he deeply regrets his inability to foresee the tragedy of losing five of our number, even though Sardonyx says that even a Seer's sight is not able to predict everything."

"The one Seer I've known is barely able to predict what she's going to have for breakfast tomorrow," Severus laughed derisively. "Divination is highly overrated in my opinion. True Seers, who can predict true every time are as rare as water in the desert."

"I would have to agree with you, Potions Master. Although to be fair, Brightfire was one whose predictions were almost always reliable, which was why he was elected to the Council. He regards the rise of these dark wizard dragonslayers as a personal failure, which is why he said very little at the meeting, for he feared for his reputation as a credible authority. Most times, you can't get him to shut up, he likes to ramble for hours about everything."

"Sounds like Trelawney. She'll talk your ear off if she thinks you're paying her the slightest bit of attention, or even if you aren't." Severus remarked dryly. "I got stuck sitting next to her once at dinner and she spent the entire two hours babbling about the convergence of Saturn in the Fifth House portending a sudden shift in the school's fortunes until I longed to cast a Silence spell on her just to hear myself think. Thank God she doesn't join us for dinner all that often, she claims too many people cloud her Inner Eye. Typical Seer nonsense."

Drake found his mouth twitching into a grin of agreement at his Head of House's assessment of the Divination professor. It wasn't very politic of him, but it was true, nevertheless. Sybill Trelawney was not known for having both feet upon the ground, and her ability to hold a sensible conversation was almost nonexistent. She saw omens everywhere, the sight of a leaf falling was enough to set her off, and it was well-known fact that Professor McGonagall couldn't stand her either. She wasn't Drake's favorite teacher, he found her tendency to predict disasters a bit too contrived, almost as if by predicting them she would gain the recognition as a Seer she so clearly lacked. But Drake took her class because it was an easy A, even for one without an iota of precognitive talent, such as himself. That was the one class he could relax in, have the occasional daydream or nap, as opposed to all the rest of them, when he had to be alert and focused, such as Snape's Potions.

Though he respected Severus immensely, Potions was not his favorite subject, even though he received high marks in it. No, his first love was Defense, for it was there that he'd learned to counter all the hexes and jinxes Marsh and her little band used to torture him with on a daily basis, until Arista had come along and taught him how to conquer his stutter and fight back with Dark Hunter techniques. He was seriously considering attending the Dark Hunter Academy when he graduated Hogwarts, always assuming he passed all the entrance exams to get accepted in the first place. _I hope we get a decent teacher next year, because otherwise I'm going to be behind on the latest techniques, and that's the last thing I need. Too bad Arista couldn't teach it, she knows things about Defense that nobody else does, since she was trained by Hunters. She couldn't be any worse than that idiot Lockhart, whose idea of teaching was to set loose a cage of pixies and who was all talk and no action, the fraud!_ He shrugged, then thought that even if their new Defense teacher was terrible, at least he could still practice with Arista and the other SR's in the forest and hone what he already knew to a razor edge.

In the meantime, he was gathering fascinating information about bronze dragons, material his father would be overjoyed to get, since with it he could disprove the idea that bronze dragons were a myth. Drake wondered if Fireflash or Sunstrike would mind posing for a picture, since that would be irrefutable proof of their existence, and a Godsend to Dr. Lockwood, who could then publish Drake's findings in his veterinary journal and hopefully garner himself some kind of award. Dr. Lockwood had missed the coveted Rhodri Davies Award for five years in a row because his research wasn't sufficiently unusual enough for the Magical Creatures Veterinary Board. Well, if they didn't find bronze dragons unusual, there was always the magehound puppy and possibly a breeding program in the future.

His musings were cut short by Arista telling them that Scout had discovered more than one dark wizard scent in the area, apparently the one who had shot Fireflash had now been joined by some of his friends. The hound would not leave the original trail, but Fireflash thought it best if he and Sunstrike scouted ahead, following the new trails, to see where they led.

"He says he thinks they'll probably end up in the same place, but just in case they don't, we need to know that." Arista reported. "He says we should continue following Scout and they'll meet up with us later. Oh, and he also says we shouldn't fly any more, since the closer we get to St. Helen's, the more chance there is of us being spotted by tourists visiting the volcano."

That suited Drake fine, he was more than ready to get off Snape's broom, despite the fact that nothing bad had happened to him on it. Right then, walking suited his nerves better than flying.

"Hopefully, these new people are members of the Dragonslayer Guild, and not off on their own, otherwise we're going to have to worry about infiltrating two sets of bases instead of one," Severus said, frowning in consternation. "Although the likelihood of two rival groups of dark wizards sharing the same space in the forest is a slim one. Most necromancers never learned how to share well when they were children and that's not a prime requisite of a dark wizard."

He guided the Windstorm down to a flawless landing inbetween two large oak trees. Drake breathed a sigh of extreme relief when they were on the ground once more and hopped off the broom with unwonted eagerness, making the Potions Master glance at him in surprise. "Was my flying that bad, Lockwood?"

"No, sir," the other flushed, looking at the ground. "I . . .need to answer a call of nature." Drake managed at last. "Excuse me." He disappeared behind the oak tree, feeling his ears turn a brilliant scarlet, the way they always did when he had to invent lame excuses. He doubted if the professor bought that line, but it was better than admitting the truth, that flying scared him silly all of a sudden. He couldn't bear it if Snape thought him a coward. He only hoped that his fear of flying was temporary and would fade with time, as the memory of his accident faded. And if not, well then he'd deal with it the same way he had his stuttering.

Thankfully, Snape said nothing when Drake returned, simply started walking towards where Arista had landed, a few feet beyond them. She glanced up at him, her eyes bright with understanding, and Drake knew she could sense what was bothering him, but she too said nothing about it. Instead she looked at her father and said, "Scout's about ten miles or so ahead of us, quartering the trail. He said that so many Muggles walking nearby have muddled it a bit, but nothing that he won't be able to work out. It'll just take a little longer than usual, but we shouldn't worry."

"Good, that'll give us time to catch up to him," Severus said, muttering a charm to shrink his broom down so that it fit inside his rucksack. He then enlarged his bag back to its normal size, so he would appear to be an ordinary hiker out with his family and not stand out to any Muggle happening on them.

Arista followed his example, then they set out, walking swiftly yet economically through the trees towards the smoldering volcano, following a dirt trail that might have been carved millennia ago by glaciers when the Ice Age happened.

Arista could sense the great age of this forest, her empathic gift read the slow emotions of the trees as she walked, they had been here for so long that even they forgot when they had been mere saplings. She also felt the quicksilver emotions of the squirrels and birds nestling in the great trees' branches, as well as the babble of excitement from the group of tourists somewhere off to the right, climbing the walkway the rangers had set up so visitors could walk beside the crater of St. Helen's and not fear falling into it.

Farther away, she could feel Scout, but even his presence could not erase the feeling of uneasiness that accompanied their trek into the wilderness surrounding the great volcano. Sunstrike had been right, there was something haunted about this section of the forest. _Something wicked this way comes,_ she thought darkly. _Or has already come, if my intuition is anything to go on. _She cast a quick glance behind her at her dad and Drake, wondering if they too sensed what she did.

But no, both of them seemed unaffected by the lingering darkness that seemed to cling to the base of the trees. They couldn't hear the sadness in the wind that rustled through the leaves, or hear the trees sigh in disappointment at the fact that yet another sorcerer had taken up residence here, spreading their evil abroad once more, as had been the case centuries before.

Arista wished she wasn't able to sense the mounting evil around her, it was making her sick to her stomach. She shielded frantically, and the nausea in her belly lessened, enough so she wouldn't need to fear vomiting in front of her friend or her father and embarrassing herself utterly. Now all she could feel was a vague uneasiness and Scout's presence farther ahead. Sometimes her empathic gift was more trouble than it was worth, though she couldn't deny its usefulness.

The three walked in silence, Arista leading slightly, though on occasion Professor Snape outpaced her with his longer stride. They were to the northwest of the volcano, and could see lines of tourists winding their way up the base of the mountain, all of them eager to peer into the fiery depths of one of the few active volcanoes left on earth.

"How much further away is Scout now, Arista?" Drake asked, pausing to rub a cramp out of the back of his calf.

"About seven miles or so," she replied immediately. "But he's just about untangled the scent of the ritualist from the others, so be prepared for him to move once he's struck it again."

"Can't you tell him to wait for us or something?"

"Not at this point, no. He's so intent on the hunt he won't stop for anything, even if I ordered him to," Arista explained.

"What if I blew my whistle?" Snape queried, holding up the dog whistle. "Would he come in then? He hasn't eaten with us in over twenty-four hours."

"He caught a rabbit yesterday, and he's not hungry for anything except catching crooks right now, Dad. I doubt he'd obey the whistle even if you did blow it. He's getting close to the end of the trail, and he knows it. We're just gonna have to follow as best we can, 'cause he's so hot on the trail he won't stop for anything short of somebody breaking all his legs, and even then I think he'd crawl along."

Severus shook his head. "Damn stubborn animal!"

"That's a magehound for you," Arista said, smiling. "That's why they're the Dark Hunter symbol. Because they never give up."

"But what happens when he finally tracks the necromancer down?" Drake asked. "We don't want him to attack the bloody guy, he might get hurt."

"He won't," Arista reassured him. "Dad only told him to search out the quarry, not capture it. He'll only attack if he's commanded to do so, or if he's defending himself or one of us. Otherwise, he'll leave the apprehending of the criminal to us."

"Criminals, most likely, given the information we have," her father corrected softly. "I want you to tell me immediately when Scout gets close to their hideout or whatever, Arista. Because that's when I go on alone, just me and the dragons. Lockwood, you cast concealment spells on yourself and Arista and stay out of the way. Under no circumstances are you to follow me, am I understood? No matter what happens, you're to stay put."

"But what if you're hurt or something?" Arista began.

"That's my problem, not yours," Snape said firmly. "Promise me, Arista, right now. No matter what happens, you stay away. Because I can't afford distractions when I'm dueling a wizard of this caliber. Well?" he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her with one of his famous Snape glares. "I'm waiting, young lady."

She bit her lip, her instinct to protect warring with her former promise to obey him implicitly. You gave your word, and once made, a promise should never be broken. "All right. I promise."

"Good. Your turn, Lockwood."

Once Drake had promised also, Snape gestured for Arista to continue leading them.

Three hours later they were all tired, dusty, and sweaty and had moved about fifteen feet closer to the volcano. Arista had tried to get the dog to slow down, or at least rest a bit, but Scout would have none of it. _I'm close, too close to stop now, he'd panted to her fifteen minutes ago. The trail's clear again and I need to follow it_.

"He won't stop, like I figured," she reported back to Snape and Drake. "But I don't think I can go on for much longer, Dad."

"I'm tired too," the professor admitted. "Maybe we should look for a place to camp. Can you contact Fireflash, see where they are or what they've discovered?"

Arista closed her eyes, sorting out Fireflash's signature from the myriad of others that bombarded her empathic senses. "He says that he and Sunstrike found a small clearing about ten miles from here, behind the volcano. He thinks it looks like a place where they might be preparing sacrifices or something. They can smell old blood soaked into the earth or something and tallow candles were burnt there recently, around two days ago, he thinks."

"But there's no other sign of people?" Snape asked.

"No. But he says he thinks it would be a good idea if they kept watch on the place for the night, see if anyone returns to make another offering or whatever."

"That settles it then. We camp here for tonight and continue on tomorrow," Severus told them. "Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky and the dragons will apprehend one of them tonight and we can question him about the rest of them."

"That'd take a miracle, Professor."

"Well, miracles _do_ happen, you know," Arista put in.

"Sure they do, if you're a saint or something," Drake muttered.

"Better start praying then, Lockwood," the Potions Master said, then continued walking a bit further up the trail. They came to a space that was cleared a little and Snape decided here was where they would camp for the night.

By now this was routine for them, so it took barely six minutes for them to set up the tent, make a fire, and eat supper. Afterwards, all of them went to bed, exhausted from all the walking they had done. Snape made sure he set up wards before he went to sleep, however. He wasn't taking any chances of one of the Guild members stumbling on them by chance and surprising them.

**A/N: So what do you think? And another warning, something else nasty happens next, so be prepared!**


	16. Rescuing Scout

**Rescuing Scout**

**A/N: the italics in the beginning of the chapter indicate a dream sequence.**

_She dreamed she was running down a forest path, the scent of evil hot in her nostrils, stinging the back of her throat aggravatingly. It was growing stronger the closer she drew to the fiery mountain, overriding even the strange smell in the air, like rotten eggs. Suddenly, she halted, all the fur on her neck bristling, for she sensed a presence behind her. She whirled, teeth bared, a low snarl of warning emerging from her throat._

Two men stood behind her, identical smirks of malevolence on their faces, pointing strange sticks at her that stank of dark magic. "End of the trail, magic puppy," one sneered. "The master don't want you finding our hideout."

She leapt, jaws wide to bite, but the other wizard spoke a word that made no sense and she felt a fiery burning pain in her leg and was knocked to the ground hard. "That'll teach you, you mangy cur," sneered one, and his boot came down on one of her paws, making her yelp in agony.

She snapped her head around, her teeth closing on the man's ankle with a satisfying crunch. The man screamed worse than a terrified puppy. "Ahhh! Get it off me, Tom! It's gonna chew my foot off!"

She hung on, biting down hard, as she worried the man's ankle like a terrier with a rat. Then she felt a sharp blow alongside the head, and then another, until she was forced to release the man's ankle.

"Kill the blasted mutt, Tom," spat the man with the bitten ankle.

She felt another blow alongside her ribs, bone splintered, and suddenly she couldn't breathe right. She snarled softly in token defiance, then the pain overwhelmed her and she was spun away into darkness.

Arista Snape woke up gasping for breath, a dull ache in her ribs, as if she'd been kicked by the toe of a man's boot. Her heart was racing, her body throbbing with adrenaline, as if she had been running hard. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the images that swamped her mind, of two men attacking her, with magic and fists, of biting a man so hard she drew blood, of the man vowing to kill her . . .Suddenly she felt a bolt of pain in her head, and she bit her lip hard to keep from shrieking.

_Scout! That's his pain I'm feeling through the link!_ She threw off her blanket, slipping her feet into her sneakers and scrambling across the tent and out into the night. She extended her empathic senses outward, searching for Scout's signature.

She felt it, it was weak, but it was still there. _He's alive then. But hurt bad. I've got to get to him fast. He's only about three miles away, he stopped to rest same as we did, then picked up the trail as soon as he woke up. I can catch up to him easy with the Springbok charm. _  
She whispered the charm that gave her the speed of a springbok gazelle, which could reach speeds of up to sixty miles an hour, and bounded away through the trees, moving with grace and swiftness of the little deer.

Drake Lockwood stared after her in astonishment. "Where the hell is she going at this hour?" he asked himself. "She's not supposed to just go off on her own like that. The professor's gonna have a fit if he finds out." He glanced back at the tent, but his teacher was still sleeping, blissfully unaware of his daughter's sudden departure. Drake pondered Arista's actions for a moment. "She wouldn't leave without a good reason, unless she was needed to heal someone, like one of the dragons or Scout," he reasoned. "That's it! She's probably gone to find Scout, maybe something's happened to him. I'd better go after her, in case she needs my help. It should only take a few minutes, and the professor won't ever need to know."

He pointed his wand at himself and cast the same charm as Arista. Moments later he was bounding along through the trees after her. He soon caught up to her, the springbok was built more for bounding across grasslands than through woodlands, and the spell wasn't as effective in close quarters. "Hey, Arista! What's up?" he said, moving alongside her.

She whipped her head around so fast he was surprised she didn't snap her neck. "Drake! Jesus Christ, don't ever sneak up on me like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry. You know it's a habit of mine," he apologized, referring to his nearly soundless approach, which he had perfected as a means of hiding from the bullies that used to plague him at school. No one ever heard him unless he wanted them to, he made less noise than a ghost. "What are you doing out here anyhow?"

"Finding Scout. He's in trouble, I could feel it through the link. Some people attacked him, hurt him bad. He needs me," was all she said, then continued running.

"That's what I figured," Drake said. "Why didn't you wake one of us to tell us?"

Arista did not bother answering, she was too intent on locating her dog, who she could feel growing steadily weaker as blood trickled from a huge gash down his side. She increased her pace, thinking irritably, _Don't pester me with meaningless questions now, Drake, I don't have time for it. All that matters is Scout. I need to hurry and get to him before it's too late. Every second counts. _  
Drake followed doggedly, wondering as he did so why she hadn't just grabbed her broom and flown there. He supposed she simply hadn't thought of it, or hadn't taken the time to search for it, more likely. She had an intense driven look on her face, and he could tell she wasn't really seeing her surroundings, finding Scout had consumed her.

He estimated they'd been gone from the campsite for about five minutes or so. Plenty of time to find the dog, heal him, and get back before Professor Snape awoke. Drake didn't even want to consider what kind of temper Snape would be in if he happened to awaken and find them both gone. _Maybe I should have woken him. He'll have a stroke if we're not back soon. But if I'd done that, I couldn't have caught up to Arista in time, it was sheer luck I woke up just in time to see her slipping out of the tent_.

He winced just thinking of the scolding Severus would have given them if he knew what they were doing, going off without a word in direct disobedience to his orders, even if it was to save their magehound. Hopefully, he would never find out about their little night escapade, Drake thought, springing lightly over a huge oak's roots that bisected the trail. The sky was growing lighter, dawn wasn't far off. "Arista, can you sense anyone else about here?" he called softly.

"No," she replied, though her empathic senses were muddled by Scout's pain, and it made it difficult to sense anything beyond the dog's great need. Still, she did not feel any other person's emotions nearby, and she returned to focusing strictly on the magehound, letting his need guide her like a flare through the dark.

"There!" she exclaimed. "He's just ahead, lying on the ground beneath a small ash tree."

And he was. Drake gasped in horror at the bloodied wreck of what had once been a proud animal. The dog lay limply on the ground, his legs broken, cut and bleeding from a huge gash in his side, his head misshapen from a broken jaw, panting in shallow gasps.

"Holy God, what did they do to him?" Drake cried in fury, longing to smash something. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes." Arista answered tightly, tears sparkling on her face. "I'm here, Scout. My brave dog, you're gonna be okay."

The magehound opened one eye at their approach, and a feeble whimper escaped him. Arista knelt by him, white fire etching her hands. She set them directly on the bleeding gash in his side and closed it with a concentrated pulse of her healing power, disinfecting it and sealing it in an instant. Then she moved on to combat the shock of the blood loss and mend the broken legs and ribs the dog had sustained.

Drake watched in awe as the swelling over the dog's face and head went down, the white fire sweeping over it in a dizzying corona. What it would have taken him over twenty minutes to do took Arista about three, and she didn't even need to cast a specific spell to focus her power. Not even Dr. Lockwood could heal that way, and he was a certified Animal Healer.

Arista had healed over fifty percent of the damage the two dragonslayers had done to Scout when Drake felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in warning. He turned, his wand out, a Stunning hex on his lips.

But there was nothing there. He started to sigh in relief, when something black flew out of the trees and struck him in the neck. "What the—?" was all he managed to get out, one hand reaching up to brush at the tiny dart embedded in his skin. Then he toppled to the ground, knocked out by the sleeping poison on the dart.

Arista didn't even feel the dart that struck her in the back of the head. She was tranced too deeply to sense the approach of the two dragonslayers and as soon as she was struck, she fell over, her healing fire snuffed out like a guttered candle.

Scout stiffened, the smell of the two men drifting to his nostrils, but he had the presence of mind to lie still, playing dead, for he knew he was not strong enough to take them on just yet. Another time, however, there would come a reckoning.

"Perfect. Two stupid kids, we couldn't have planned it better if we'd tried," chuckled the blond haired man, bending over to pick up Drake's comatose form and sling it over his shoulder. "That Seer is the real thing awright, wouldn't you say, Jem?"

"Looks that way, seein' as how these two were just where she said they'd be," answered the other, picking up Arista and heaving her over a shoulder also. "The Dragonmaster will be pleased as punch to get these two, specially after you let the other one get away, Tom."

"That weren't my fault, Jem!" protested his companion. "How was I supposed t'know the little witch could kick like a bloody mule? She damned near unmanned me for life, the bloody she-devil!"

"I doubt the ladies would have noticed the difference," laughed Jem, tucking Lockwood's wand in his pocket.

"Aw, shut up, Jem! Like you'd a done any better."

"Let's get these two back to the Master, before somebody sees us."

"What about the dog?"

"What about 'im? He's dead, might as well leave 'im here. Anyone finds him they'll think he tangled with a bear or something," Jem said, and gave the dog a kick. "Blasted mutt nearly took off my foot, so he can just lie here and rot for all I care." Then he limped off, carrying the still form of Arista over his shoulder.

Scout opened his eyes and snarled under his breath, marking the direction in which the two men had gone. He'd be able to pick up the trail later, when he was stronger. For now, he needed food and rest, and he knew the only safe haven in these woods was back where the kids had come from.

He heaved himself to his feet cautiously, his newly healed legs protesting his weight mightily. He took two steps forward, staggered, then regained his balance. He was still weak and tired, aching and bruised all over, and his head was fuzzy and his jaw throbbed where several back teeth had been knocked out, but he could walk. And walk he did, slowly and painfully, back down the trail to the campsite, following the scent of the two young wizards.

* * * * * *  
Severus Snape awoke to the sound of a dog barking. He rolled over, rubbing his eyes, and sat up, wondering why in the hell Arista hadn't gotten up to let Scout outside, the way she usually did. Then he recalled that they weren't home, but somewhere in Washington state, tracking down renegade wizards.

He swore softly as the dog's barking continued. Did the damn hound want to alert everyone within a five-mile radius of his presence? He wondered irritably as he dressed, lighting up his area of the tent with a Lumos spell. He stuck his head out from behind the curtain. "Arista! Why in God's name is Scout barking like that?"

There was no answer. Scowling, Snape shoved aside the curtain and walked the ten steps across the tent to where his daughter slept, throwing back the curtain. "Arista! How can you sleep through that racket?" he demanded. Then he saw her bedroll was empty. "She's probably out playing with him or something," he muttered, then went to wake up Drake, who was also not in his bed.

A little alarm bell began going off in his head. "Both of them are awake before me? That's never happened before. I usually have to shake one or both of them awake, otherwise they'll sleep till noon." An uneasy feeling in his gut, he checked the little bathroom. It was empty.

"Arista? Drake?" he called softly, walking out of the tent.

They were nowhere in sight. Severus swore furiously. "Where the blazes are they, the irresponsible brats? I told them to stay here and not go wandering off without telling me. Just wait till I find them. If they think they can break a promise to me and not pay for it . . .I'm going to ground the both of them for the rest of the year, I swear to God!" he strode from the clearing in the direction the dog was barking. "Dark wizards are all over this area and they stroll off merrily like they were in the queen's rose gardens!"

The barking was louder now, and Severus quickened his pace. "Scout!" he whistled. "Here, boy!"

There came a low whine, as if the dog was in pain, then he saw the magehound come limping through the trees, plainly injured.

Concerned, Severus ran over to the dog, kneeling down to examine him. "Easy, fellow. What happened to you? You looked like you were jumped by a pack of griffins or something." He felt the dog over, noting that while he was covered in blood, there were no open wounds on him. Yet the hound was plainly exhausted and in pain. He took the dog's head in his hands gently, peering at a faint pink scar over Scout's right eye. "That's a newly healed scar. Did Arista heal you then, boy? But if she was with you, why didn't she finish the job? She'd never leave you half-healed like this."

Scout whined and pressed his head against Severus's chest.

_Unless someone or something prevented her_, his mind whispered darkly. He felt an icy chill creep down the back of his neck. What if she had gone to rescue Scout and the necromancers had discovered her and Drake? He muttered a few more choice swear words. This was his worst nightmare come to life, the two children in his care gone missing, perhaps in the hands of his enemies, at the mercy of those who didn't know the meaning of the word.

_I have to find them. If anything ever happened to them_ . . .his mind flinched away from that thought. He looked down at the magehound, who was plainly in dire need of rest and food. "I can't ask you to track them just yet, Scout. You're barely standing as it is. But one way or another, we've got to find them."

Scout barked an affirmative, wagging his tail slightly in agreement.

"All right. First thing I need to do is get you back to camp, mister. Then I'll cast a locator spell, try and find them that way. Meantime you rest and get your strength back, because if that doesn't work, I'm going to need your nose again, Scout." He lifted the dog in his arms, then Apparated back to the camp.

Once there he set about gently washing the blood from the dog's coat and feeding him a dish of ground hamburger mixed with beef broth which he conjured from the kitchen of the visitor center. Scout ate slowly and hungrily, and the Potions Master applied some soothing salve to the various bruises and scratches the dog had on his sides and legs. Scout's right forefoot was badly bruised and swollen, he whimpered when Snape touched it.

"That's going to need a compress," the professor said, getting what he needed from his first aid kit. "Hold still, boy," he commanded, lifting the paw and applying a warm compress of comfrey and arnica to the swollen area, which he then secured by wrapping a bandage about it with a sticking charm on it.

Scout sniffed curiously at the bandage and Snape gently took his muzzle and said firmly, "Leave that alone, Scout! It's to help you get better, so don't go chewing it off, understand?"

The dog's blue eyes met his and Snape knew that the hound understood him. Severus ruffled the dog's ears and sighed. "Sure wish you could talk, then you could tell me what the hell happened to Arista and Drake."

Scout wagged his tail, licked the Potions Master's hand, then drank from the bowl of water Snape set down next to his food dish. Severus watched the dog carefully, thinking that he'd never seen the dog in such bad shape before. "If you look this bad now, what did you look like before Arista healed you?" he wondered softly. "You must have been half dead, if the amount of blood on you is any indication." His eyes flashed angrily. "That's one more I owe those miserable bastards. Nobody hurts my dog and gets away with it. Or my children either."


	17. Unexpected Ally

**Unexpected Ally**

Satisfied that he'd done all he could for the magehound, Snape returned to the tent to gather an item from each of the children's belongings to use as a focus for his locator spell. Last summer, he and Colin had used this same spell to track the elusive Nightshade, and it had led them right to her. He held Arista's shirt and Drake's jacket across his lap, then made a pass over them with his wand and spoke the words, "_Revelaro locari_!"

The tip of his wand glowed a bright green, washing over the items he held, and he waited for the familiar tug on his subconscious that signaled that the tracking spell was working. But he felt the spell seeking the two as requested, then seem to halt, as if it could not pick up a signature. Frowning, he tried it again, concentrating harder, picturing the two in his mind as he spoke the spell.

Again the spell flew from him like an arrow shot from a bow, only to bounce back as it came up against something it couldn't penetrate. It circled about wildly, trying in vain to find what its caster sought, but it was unable to do so.

"Damn, damn, damn!" Severus growled, scowling down at the pile of clothing. "Something's blocking my tracking spell." He should have expected that, for the dragonslayers would have been discovered before now if they didn't have magic that confounded a Hunter's locator spells. Still, he had hoped to catch them off guard. "Well, guess it's up to you, Scout," he told the dog, who was now stretched out on Severus's blanket, taking a well-deserved rest.

Severus knew there was little else he could do but wait until the dog felt well enough to resume tracking the two young wizards. But he would go crazy if he did nothing, and so he busied himself tidying up the tent, repacking everything and then checking his supply of emergency potions, like the Anti-Stasis potion and the Fireproof potion, both of which he'd brewed up just before leaving the beach house. He'd planned on drinking them just before confronting the dragonslayers, for he knew that Dragon's Breath was probably a favorite potion of theirs, and most of the criminals over here seemed to favor spells that stopped time. A stasis spell with a twist had been Nightshade's favorite method of taking out her opponents.

The sky brightened further and Severus wondered when Fireflash and Sunstrike were going to return. They had been gone all night, and he hoped one of them might have learned where the dragonslayers had hidden themselves at least. He tried not to think about what they could be doing to Arista or Drake, whom he had sworn to protect. _Crouch, if you've harmed one hair on their heads, I promise I'll make you regret it till your dying day. Which won't be too long if Fireflash has his way with you, you murdering savage! You belong in Azkaban if anyone does and I wish I could have put you there before you began this insane campaign of yours. _Illogical as it was, he couldn't help but feel guilty that he'd not done something to check Gerald Crouch before this, for he'd known long ago what kind of twisted personality Crouch harbored. But you couldn't arrest a person on suspicion and Crouch had never broken the law in Britain.

But this time, Crouch was fair game, and Snape looked forward to their inevitable confrontation. _Then you'll see what your former Potions Master is really capable of, Crouch. No more Mr. Nice Guy, this time I'm going to thrash you until you beg me for mercy, you sniveling coward. We'll see how well you fare against me as opposed to children, dogs, and ambushed dragons. _  
He twirled his wand idly in his hand, imagining all the spells he was going to cast on his enemy, when there came a crashing in the underbrush just outside the campsite. He was on his feet in a flash, wand at the ready, eyes narrowed. The wards were not flaring, the way they would if a dark practitioner were nearby. "Who's there?" he barked. "Show yourself!"

A ragged figure emerged from the bushes to the right of the trail, stumbling to a halt just inside the circle of protection. Snape lowered his wand a fraction, the fact that the person could cross the wards proved that she—for he could see now that it was a young woman—was not a dragonslayer. Her clothes were ripped and smeared with dirt, she wore a T-shirt that had plainly seen better days, it was missing a sleeve, and her pants were so ragged about the knees that they might have passed for shorts. Her hair was a tangled mess, falling half in her face and down her back, and she bore various scrapes down her arms and legs, as if she'd been climbing and slipped. Her eyes, when she lifted them to meet his, were dark pools of despair, sorrow, and anxiety, like those of a hunted animal.

Her eyes slid from his face to his wand, and upon seeing it relaxed a fraction. Severus judged her to be around eighteen or nineteen. "Good. You're a wizard too," she said, her voice raspy with an emotion Snape assumed was relief. "I knew . . .the wards would permit me . . .sorry, I'm not making any sense." She straightened up to her full height, which was about five seven, and managed a tentative half-smile. "The name's Cheyenne. Hunter Merrick, I should say. And I think you're here for the same reason I am, right?"

Snape recognized the name, at least the last name. "Merrick? Are you the one called the Advocate?"

"No, that was my dad, Raymond Merrick. I was his apprentice, out on my second assignment for the Council." Her eyes narrowed. "I don't recognise you, mister. And I know all the wizards associated with the Dragon Council. Who are you?"

"My name is Severus Snape, and I'm a Potions Master. I saved the life of a bronze dragon along with my daughter and my student, which was why the Council sent me on this mission. We've been tracking the fugitives with the help of my magehound, Scout." He indicated the dog sleeping on the blanket.

"They sent a teacher and a couple of kids as backup?" the young woman repeated. "But that's crazy!" She shook her head wearily. "Mind if I sit down? I've been running and hiding for two days straight, and I'm a little exhausted."

Severus gestured for her to sit down, then offered her a drink of bottled water. He didn't care at all for her assessment of him, but he tempered his initial sarcastic rejoinder, sensing she was close to the edge, and one wrong word would cause her to collapse.

"They also sent Fireflash and Sunstrike with us," he told her, sitting across form her with his own bottle of water. "Fireflash has been trying to contact your father for over a week now, but hasn't been able to get an answer."

"That's not too surprising, considering my father is no longer on this earth," Cheyenne said bitterly. "He died over a week ago, sacrificed in a blood ritual by the Dragonmaster. They took his life and his magic both, the cowards, and they made me watch while they did it!"

Her eyes blazed at him from across the fire, haunted eyes of a girl that had seen too much horror to ever sleep comfortably again. "But then they screwed up. They were so busy congratulating themselves on their conquering of the Advocate that they forgot to watch me. They thought because they'd put me under Imperius and drugged with me a Null Magic potion that I was helpless. But I fought off the Imperius and kicked the idiot sent to watch me in the family jewels, he sure as blazes wasn't expecting that," here she gave a grimace that was intended to be a smile. "Then I escaped out the back entrance of their little complex and I've been running from them ever since. But they don't know these woods as well as they think, and the forest hates them, and it hid me when I asked it to. I'm an earth mage as well as a Hunter, and when I cried sanctuary, the forest answered. That's how I managed to avoid them for so long, even like this."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Merrick," Severus began. "But I'm afraid they now have my daughter and my apprentice. They went missing on me this morning, and soon after I discovered that, I found my dog injured and alone, coming back down the trail towards me. He was tracking the dragonslayers and I think they found out about him and attacked him."

"Yeah, that'd be like them. Their leader, the Dragonmaster, gets a real kick out of torturing things. Especially animals. He likes knives and fire." She shuddered. "He set a squirrel on fire in front of me and my dad and laughed while it burned. That's one sick twisted guy."

Sounds like Crouch, all right. "Cheyenne, do you know how many of them there are? Is it just him or are there more than that?"

"No, there are about seven, I think, and all of them are just as crazy as he is. They've even got a Seer working for them, but she's as mad as a hatter, babbles to herself constantly, and doesn't make any sense except when she's using the Sight to scry someone or something at the Dragonmaster's command. That was how they found the dragons to slay, and also how they found my father and me."

"A Seer!" Snape exclaimed. "Then that must be how they located Scout as well, because he's too experienced to give himself away while he's tracking."

She glanced over at the dog, who was awake and eyeing her curiously, his blue eyes alight with interest. "Scout? As in Lockheed's Scout?" she repeated softly. "Surely that's not . . ."

"The same."

"But he was retired! Hunter Colin Flynn gave him to some wizard family in Britain, said they had ties to the Hunters . . ." she trailed off awkwardly. "That's you, isn't it? Fireflash told me he had a friend over there, said you were once married to a Hunter."

"Yes. My wife was Amelia Amarotti."

Cheyenne's jaw dropped. "Good God! _The _Hunter Amarotti? The legend who tracked Slade and six or seven others besides? I can't believe it! She's the example the instructors at the Academy cite when they want to show us what a real Hunter is capable of. When I was little, I used to pretend I was her, when me and my cousins played Dark Hunters and necromancers. I always wished I could've met her . . .and now here I am, talking to her husband."

"Who would like to ask your assistance in getting Amelia's only daughter and her friend out of the hands of the dragonslayers," Severus reminded her. "Could you show me the way back to where they held you?"

Sadly, Cheyenne shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Severus. The dragonslayers have hid themselves somewhere beneath the volcano, in a complex of underground tunnels and caves. They've got tons of misdirection spells and chameleon spells on it, I couldn't even give you a general direction. When I escaped from there, all I was thinking about was getting away before they sacrificed me, I was running blindly, helpless as a Muggle without my magic. But I'll come with you to rescue them if you want. They owe me big time for my dad and I mean to see that they pay in spades."

"That must be why my locator spell failed," Snape mused. "That was the first thing I tried once I brought Scout back here."

"Could be, but the volcano emits a magnetic pulse that screws up tracking spells like anything, so that's probably why it didn't work. Probably why they've got their headquarters there in the first place. They may be a bunch of lunatics, but they're not dumb." Cheyenne acknowledged reluctantly.

"Too bad," Snape sighed. Then he caught the soft flap of wings overhead.  
Cheyenne glanced up, shading her eyes. Then she smiled faintly. "Fireflash. 'Bout time you got here, wonder wyrm."

Fireflash landed lightly in the clearing, nearly squashing the tent. "Sorry," he apologized to the Potions Master. Then he grinned at Cheyenne. "Are you a sight for sore eyes, girl! Where have you been, Cheyenne Merrick?"

"In a cage as an uninvited guest of the dragonslayers," she replied softly, lowering her eyes. "At least I was up until two days or so ago."

"How about Ray?" Fireflash queried softly. "He never answered my call."

"Because answering is impossible from heaven," Cheyenne said hoarsely, swallowing hard. "They got him too, Flash, same as they did Aventurine, Brightfang, and all the others."

"Oh, no," the bronze moaned. Then his eyes glowed a terrible stormy blue color. "Now they really have gone too far. Five bronze dragons dead plus the Advocate. There can be no imprisonment for them. Not by Dragon Law, at least." He bent his head, looking at Cheyenne in concern. "I am so very sorry, kid. He was one of the best we ever had. A true Dragonfriend. He will be missed. But we will never forget him."

The girl had her head down, her shoulders shaking visibly with suppressed sobs.

Severus said nothing, sensing that any move he made to comfort her then might cause her to fall to pieces, and that was the one thing they couldn't afford right now. The young woman knew it too, for she managed to get herself under control after a few minutes and when she looked up at the bronze, her eyes were dry.

"Time enough later to build him a memorial, Flash," she said, her tone ice cold. "Right now I want to nail those monsters once and for all. Dead or alive, I mean to bring them in. I swear Hunter's Oath on it. One way or another, they're bound for Inferno."

"Only if you get to them first, little Hunter," the dragon growled.

"Flash, they've got Arista and Drake," Severus broke in. "They attacked Scout and I think Arista felt it through the link and went to help him, along with Lockwood and they took them. We need to get them out of there as soon as possible. Did you and Sunstrike figure out where their lair is?"

"Somewhere near the volcano is all we could determine, Sev. But we'll get the kids back, don't worry about it. If we have to bring the whole damn volcano down around their ears we'll get Arista and Drake back."

"Guess we're going to have to rely on Scout then. I'll let him sleep for a few more hours, then check his paw and see if he's willing to track for me."

"Oh, he'll be willing, Sev. No magehound ever likes to quit the hunt before he gets his quarry." Fireflash predicted.

"Can you speak to him, Flash? Ask him if he knows where the kids were captured."

"I don't do other animal tongues well, but I'll try," Flash said, muttering a few words in dragonspeech. Then he whuffed softly at the golden dog, and Scout awoke and barked back.

For a few minutes, the dragon and the dog conversed in soft growls and head and tail motions that were incomprehensible to the two wizards watching. At last Flash turned back to them and said, "Scout wants you to know that he can find the trail easily, he marked where they went, and if he hadn't been hurt so badly he would have bitten their hands off for daring to hurt his mistress. He did bite one of them in the ankle when they first attacked him, said he made the man limp something awful."

Snape grinned at that. "Good dog, Scout! I hope it turns into gangrene and he has to cut it off. You rest up some more and then when you're ready, we'll go find them and you have my permission to bite them as many times as you want."

Scout barked sharply.

"He says he'll be happy to teach them a lesson, Sev." Fireflash translated.

Then the dog put his head on his paws and fell asleep.

Severus looked over at Cheyenne, who was staring at Scout admiringly. "Can you tell me something, Miss Merrick?"

"Sure. And call me Cheyenne, please. If we're going to be working together, we can't be so formal all the time, Mr. Snape."

"Very well, Cheyenne," he said. "Did you happen to catch the Dragonmaster using a name other than that one? And was he wearing a red cloak?"

"He was, now that I think about it. It was a dark red, kind of like crimson."

"Then he's the one who shot Aventurine. And probably me as well," Fireflash snorted angrily. Plumes of smoke drifted from his nostrils.

"Shot you?" Cheyenne repeated. "With what?"

"Dragonbane. I almost died. But Arista saved me, kept me alive while Sev and Drake brewed up the antidote. Sunstrike found a tiny piece of his cloak on the ground where I was hit and that's how Scout could track him."

"Hellfires, Flash! And you're up and flying so soon after being poisoned?" she gazed at the bronze dragon in awe.

"Sev's a good Potions Master," the bronze said modestly. "And Arista's the strongest Healer I ever met."

Cheyenne whistled. "I'll bet. You're the first to survive an attack since they began killing bronzes in over six months." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "As for your other question, once, when they were passing by my cell, I did hear one of the others call the Master by his real name. The guy called him Gerald or George, I think. No, it was Gerald . . .and his last name, I think it started with a C. Crook, Creep, no wait . . .I have it! It was Crouch. Gerald Crouch. Why? Do you know him?"

Snape nodded heavily. "I'm afraid so. He was once my student. I was his Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As a child he was a sneak and a bully, and as a man he's no better. Worse now than he was then, if his actions here are anything to go by. I suspected it might be him, as soon as you began describing what he did, but I wasn't certain until now. He'd have the connections in the Ministry to acquire the forbidden texts on the Dragonslayer Guild, since his uncle was a highly placed Ministry official."

"He's mad, you know. He wants to bring back the Dragonslayer Guild, make this an age for humans only, he says. Nobody needs the dragons any more, they're anachronistic, like the dinosaurs, and it's time for them to give way to us, who are the true rulers of the earth," Cheyenne recited in a sneering tone. "That's the kind of stuff my dad and I got to listen to before he made up his mind to use one of us in his blood ritual. Claims that with all the power he's gathered, he can do something unprecedented, make him the strongest wizard in the world, stronger than even Lord Voldemort. He's nuttier than a fruitcake, Severus."

"He always has been, Cheyenne. My only regret is that I couldn't convince my Headmaster than he was truly dangerous when he was a student, perhaps we could have stopped him before he grew up into such a monster."

"The only way you'd have been able to do that, Sev, was if you chucked him into a hole and buried him," Fireflash said. "There's no rehabilitating a sick evil soul like that one, no matter how old they are. They're born evil and they never change. They lack emotions and conscience and the only thing to do with one of them is to give them a quick death."

"Which I mean to do, I swear on my father's grave," Cheyenne vowed. "I'll never permit the Dragonslayer Guild to rise again, not while I'm still breathing."

"Me either," Flash agreed.

"Nor will I. Gerald Crouch has crossed the line this time, and I mean to see he pays for his crimes, especially for kidnapping my daughter. That's one mistake I'll never forgive or forget." Severus declared, and in his eyes burned the fires of an avenging angel. Gone was the cool collected Potions Master, in his place now rose the shadow of a combat master, one who was, as Colin Flynn had observed, the equal of any Hunter Academy Master. _Say your prayers, Mr. Crouch, because tonight I'm coming for you, and this time there's no Headmaster to shield you from my wrath ever again. _


	18. Intolerable Cruelty

**Intolerable Cruelty**

**Warning: Some mention of abuse/torture in this chapter!**

Arista awoke with the taste of old socks in the back of her throat. Almost immediately, her nose was assailed by the odor of rotten eggs. That, combined with the terrible taste in her mouth, made her already queasy stomach rebel. She clamped a hand over her mouth and crawled across the stone floor, looking for a corner to empty her stomach. Her head spun like a top, but she managed to make it to the tin pail located in the corner before she threw up.

Afterwards, she felt marginally better, though the odor of rotten eggs still permeated the air slightly. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and tried not to think about it, or else she would end up being sick again. She managed to get to her feet, noting that she was in some kind of stone cell, with iron bars on one side. It was very hot in here, she felt drenched with sweat even though she was wearing a light shirt and pants.

A rock high over her head had been enchanted with Lumos to provide a small amount of light, enough for her to see that the cell she occupied also contained her friend Drake Lockwood. Other than that, plus the bucket and a small drape, the cell was bare. She yawned, trying to clear her head of the fog that wreathed it. The back of her head itched, she lifted her hand to scratch it, and found a small welt there, almost like a mosquito bite. She also noticed her wrists were manacled with silvery glowing handcuffs.

_What's this? Null Magic cuffs? But only Hunters carry these. Bet they stole them off one, or bought them on the Shadow Exchange._ As a former Hunter's apprentice, Arista was familiar with all of their devices, and the Null Magic cuffs were a standard item of apprehension in a Hunter's arsenal. They were made to contain a wizard's magic and with them on, she could cast no spells, not even the most basic ones. Prisoners in Inferno wore collars spelled with Null Magic, rendering them powerless, denied the magic that was their birthright forever.

She shook her hand experimentally, the cuffs weren't heavy, in fact they felt light as air, but they imprisoned her magic with bonds stronger than steel, unbreakable bonds. She shivered, wrapping her arms about her knees, wishing she had not been so damn impulsive when she'd woken up this morning. _Trust your instincts, Flash said. Ha! Look where it got me, captured by the very people we were tracking. Good one, Arista. Some Hunter you turned out to be. Mom would disown me if she ever knew._ She flinched inwardly, imagining her mother frowning down at her from heaven.

_But if you hadn't gone, Scout would have died,_ a tiny part of her mind reminded her. Which was true. The magehound had been bleeding too badly to survive. But she knew that by saving her dog she had now put their whole mission in jeopardy. _What was I supposed to do, let him die?_ She argued_. I'm a Healer, damn it. That's my job to save lives. I'm not a Hunter, who can sacrifice a friend for the greater good of her mission._ She buried her head in her hands. _Dad's gonna have a canary once he wakes up and finds us both gone. If I get out of this alive, he'll probably ground me forever, and I can't really blame him. I broke my promise to him, running off to rescue Scout like that. This is another one I'm never gonna live down, like the giant incident. He's going to start keeping a list—Arista's Stupidest Moments, or something like that, I'll bet. _She groaned softly, for her father's temper was not something the wise daughter provoked.

Her moan was echoed by Drake, who had just awoke, and was sitting up, rubbing his eyes. Like her, he turned green and threw up soon after that, and Arista suspected it had to do with the drug they'd been given to knock them out. Her Healer sense was able to analyze the effect of the drug even though she couldn't use her powers to cure.

"Arista, where are we?" Drake asked, coughing softly. "It's so hot in here. Feels like we're in hell."

"My thoughts exactly. We're somewhere inside the dragonslayer's base, I think. How do you feel?"

"Awful. What's that disgusting smell? It stinks worse than rotten eggs."

"I think it's minerals from the hot springs. Remember, Sunstrike said they were around here? They're probably somewhere nearby, that's why it feels so hot and all."

"Is that why I feel sick to my stomach too?"

"No, I think that's because of the drug they shot us with to knock us out."

"We were drugged? Not enchanted?"

"Yes. See, you've got a welt on your neck where the dart went in," she pointed out. Drake felt his neck and winced. "Whatever was on the dart makes our stomachs upset once we wake up. And the mineral smell doesn't help either."

Then he noticed the cuffs on his wrists. "What the bloody hell are these?"

"They're handcuffs. Specifically, Null Magic cuffs. They're what Hunters use to apprehend criminals. They must have stolen them off one because only Hunters are allowed to have them, and all the pairs are strictly accounted for."

Drake went pale at her words. "You mean we can't do magic with these on?"

"Yeah. And the only one who can remove them is the one who put them on. They're spelled to a command word, and each set has a different one."

He scowled down at the manacles. "I hate being locked up."

She eyed him curiously. "When have you been handcuffed before, Lockwood?"

He bit his lip and looked down at his shoes before replying. "Marsh and Hathaway handcuffed me to one of the Quidditch goal posts once. I was stuck there for nearly two hours before Hagrid spotted me and got me down. That was when I vowed I'd never let myself be trapped like that again and I started studying all the famous sleight of hand and escape artists, like Harry Houdini. I figured if I couldn't do real magic, I could at least do illusions, it was better than nothing. Although Houdini was pretty amazing, considering he wasn't one of us."

"Is that where you learned how to walk like a ghost and hide almost as good as chameleon?"

"Yeah." He was examining the cuff on his right wrist, turning it around. "Some play in it, at least. I think I could slip out of it if I had some water and a few hours."

"You're serious?"

He nodded, a mischievous smirk on his face. "I was a Houdini acolyte for a long time, Snape. I still remember how he worked most of his tricks. Getting out of handcuffs was a breeze for him. I used to practice it regularly after Marsh played her little joke on me. These are easier than regular cuffs because they don't have a chain." He twirled the slim glowing bracelet about his wrist thoughtfully. "I never thought I'd be grateful to that witch and her pompous ass of a boyfriend, but this is one time I can say thank you Marsh and mean it."

"But we don't have any water."

"So we wait. Maybe they'll bring us some." He settled down on the floor.

"We have to get out of here, Drake. God knows what they'll do to us." She glanced nervously at the bars of the cell. All that was visible was a short tunnel carved from what looked like black rock, lit by another Lumos spelled stalactite in the ceiling.

"Relax, Snape. I don't think they've begun heating up the irons and cutting birch rods just yet."

"How can you joke about something like that?" she demanded.

"Because laughing about it is better than screaming," he answered honestly.

His matter-of-fact tone made her feel slightly less nervous. "You're right. But this place really gets on my nerves. I feel like there's a dark shadow pressing down on me." She shivered, unaccountably cold despite the ever-present heat.

"You must be unusually sensitive 'cause you're an empath," Drake said, moving over and putting an arm about her shoulder.

"Guess so," she said, and leaned into his embrace, finding his touch immensely soothing.

They remained that way for several minutes, drawing strength from each other, reveling in the other's presence on a subconscious level they were not even aware of.

Then Arista realized something. "I'm such an idiot!" she exclaimed. "The cuffs might be able to block me using magic, but they can't block my empathy. That's an innate gift. So I can call for help. I can tell Dad where we are, so he can come and find us."

Drake looked at her and grinned smugly. "Awesome. Scream your head off, Arista."

"I will." She closed her eyes drew in two deep breaths, and concentrated hard on finding her father's empathic signature. It took her the better part of ten minutes to do so, because something about the mountain interfered slightly with her perception, but she managed to break through the barrier at last and locate Professor Snape's pattern.

She touched it gently, like a spider brushing against a web, making certain it was his before she opened her mind and threw everything she had into a frantic plea for help.

**DAD! IT'S ARISTA! WE'RE SOMEWHERE INSIDE THE MOUNTAIN AND WE NEED YOU TO COME FIND US! FOLLOW MY MENTAL VOICE. HURRY! **

She felt him start, as would anyone who just had someone scream loudly in their ear, but that was the only way she could make sure he heard her, since he wasn't an empath and he had unusually strong mindshields. But the bond of blood was one that could not be blocked, for it was the strongest binding known to man, and she knew he had heard her.

She felt him grope outward with his mind, seeking her._ Arista? Where are you?_

She threw him another urgent plea for help, tugging him off to the left. _This way. This way. Hurry. _

Then she withdrew slightly, for she did not want to project too strongly, lest one of the more sensitive dragonslayers discover her ability. But she could feel her father getting closer and she smiled triumphantly. Between her bond and Scout's ability to track, they should be able to find the lair of the dragonslayers without too much trouble.

"They're on their way," she whispered to Drake. "Now all we have to do is survive till they get here."

Which did not look too difficult at the moment, since all they were doing was sitting on warmed black rock, though the heat made them sticky and thirsty. Arista wondered if the necromancers had forgotten about them.

Just then, she heard footsteps coming down the tunnel, heavy ones, and she stood up, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring defiantly at the bars of her prison. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her shiver like a scared mouse. Beside her, Drake was also standing, his jaw set as if he was about to endure a whipping.

Two rather stocky men with sandy hair and narrow brown eyes dressed in red robes appeared in front of the cell. They had wands displayed prominently in their belts and wore identical smirks of eagerness on their faces. They resembled each other enough that Arista suspected they were brothers. She shivered inwardly, for they bore an aura of cruelty about them like a shroud. These two had probably amused themselves as children by pulling the wings off butterflies and breaking the legs of mice and rabbits.

Behind them shuffled a creature that looked like a pathetic bundle of rags at first. Then it straightened, and Arista realized it was a person, a pale skinned, big eyed, woman around twenty-five or so, with masses of curly dark hair twined with dozens of colorful scarves. She gazed at the two children without really seeing them.

Arista recognized that unfocused stare, it was one she saw on a regular basis in Trelawney's Divination class. _She's a Seer, or else I'm no Snape_, Arista thought. _A true one, one that knows how to control her gift, unlike Trelawney. And therefore a dangerous one. She's how they found out where the dragons were going to be and set up the ambushes. _

The girl gave the Seer a glare to rival her father's best in a temper. _Damn traitor! You broke your oath, and for what? _

"Well, looky here, Jem! Sleeping Beauty and her prince has woken up," drawled one of the brothers. "Have a nice nap?" he chuckled loudly at his own wit, making the Seer shrink backwards.

"Lovely. Where are we?" Arista asked.

"Why you're in the top accommodations we have to offer, girlie," snickered Jem. "We only put the VIP's in here, see?"

"Real funny," Drake said. "But you didn't answer her question. Who are you and why are we in here?"

Tom and Jem exchanged glances, as if Drake's question amused them vastly. "Will you listen t' the little bloke, Tom? We didn't answer his bleeding question! Awright, mate, my name's Jem and this fella here is my younger brother Tommy. And the gal behind us is Maggie. Magdalena's her real name, but we calls her Maggie." He gave Drake a cold stare. "Happy now, kid? Now that we've got that down, we can get to the reason why you're here. Simply put, you're here because the Dragonmaster wants you here. And this is where you'll stay till he says different, got me?"

Arista pretended to shrink back under his glower, but then she drew herself up to her full height and said haughtily, "Do you know who I am, mister? I'm the daughter of Chief Hamilton himself, the leader of the New York Dark Hunters. My daddy won't be too pleased once he finds out you've kidnapped me. He'll send every available Hunter out that he's got, and this place will be crawling with them in a day."

"Ooo, now I'm shaking!" Tom laughed harshly. "Won't do any good, little princess, 'cause the Dragonmaster has layers upon layers of non-detection spells all over this place, and nobody will ever find it except those us who belong to the Brotherhood. So your daddy can search till Kingdom Come and never find you."

"I don't believe you," Drake challenged. "My dad's a Dark Hunter too and he can find any crook ever born. Just wait and see."

"Oh, we'll see all right, eh, Jem?" Tom elbowed his brother in the ribs and chortled. "That's what we got Maggie for, ain't it?"

"Shut yer trap, Tom!" Jem ordered, glaring at the other man. "The boss says we aren't to speak about that." He cleared his throat meaningfully. "Like I said before, you're here until we get orders to remove you. So better get used to it, chickies. Least you don't need blankets and pillows, since it's nice and warm here." He slapped his thigh and roared with laughter.

"Can we at least have something to drink and eat too?" Arista demanded in a supercilious tone. It was how she imagined Lucy Hamilton would talk if she were here, from all of Colin and Jenna's descriptions of her, she knew Lucy would demand the best treatment from her captors, at least until they made it plain they wouldn't give in to her.

"Yeah, you don't want us to die of thirst, now do you?" Drake added.

The two considered, then Jem said, "Okay, you can have some water and bread and cheese, I guess. The boss did say he wanted you in good condition for the ritual." He waved his wand and two plates with a chunk of bread and cheese appeared along with two large mugs of water. "Here, brats. Dinner is served."

He shoved the plates and the mug through the hole in the bars he made with his wand.

Arista took the plate and sniffed, then asked, "What ritual are you talking about, mister? It better not be some disgusting voodoo one with dead chickens and cock's blood and all, because if it is I refuse to participate in it. It'll absolutely ruin my hairdo, not to mention my complexion."

"You won't have much choice, girlie," sneered Tom. "You do whatever the Master says or else."

"Humph! He's not **my** Master," she said impudently.

"He is now," Tom insisted. "And if he says jump you ask how high."

"You think?" Arista snorted, raising an eyebrow. "If he tells me to jump, I'll tell him to kiss my ass, so there!"

Tom gaped at her. So did Drake. Only Jem seemed unperturbed by her defiance. "You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, missy. Just wait till the boss gets done with you. You'll be crying for your daddy then, so you will."

"If you hurt me, you'll be sorry. My daddy will blow this place down around your ears," Arista blustered.

Jem made a dismissive noise. "Think what you like, princess, but your daddy ain't coming to save you this time, Chief Hunter or not. Now, we've wasted enough time jawing with you two. We've got other things to do." He pointed at Maggie. "You stay here and watch them, Maggie my girl. Understand?"

The woman nodded, seating herself on the floor next to the cell. "I watch . . .watch all the pretty birds and the little children. Pretty birds fly away, but the children stay!" she chanted in a singsong voice. "Stay forever, oh yes, and never ever go home again."

Her song sent chills down Arista's spine, and she fought to keep from trembling, for she could sense the truth behind the Seer's words. Clearly, this was not the first time they had captives in this cell. She didn't need to ask what had become of them, she had a feeling she knew all too well.

"You tell 'em, Mags," Tom laughed, then they went away, leaving the Seer to guard their new prisoners.

After they had gone, Maggie seemed to sink into a trance, staring at the opposite wall intently, ignoring her captives.

Arista called her name several times and got no response. Then she turned to Drake and hissed, "We have to get out of here soon, Lockwood. I don't like the sound of this ritual they've got planned. I'm nobody's sacrificial goat."

"Neither am I," he said, pouring water over his hands and wrists. "By the way, where'd you come up with that Chief's daughter bit? That was brilliant. I almost believed you."

"Lucy Hamilton's a real person, I didn't make her up. All I did was borrow her snotty attitude. She's a one hundred percent snob and a spoiled brat, according to Colin and Fireflash. They can't stand her, and I figured if I wanted to be as annoying as possible, I should imitate her. Besides, they might think twice about hurting me right away if they think I'm Hamilton's daughter."

"True, but once they find out otherwise . . ."

"They won't. None of them have ever met her, d'you think she hangs out with the likes of them?" Arista giggled. "From what Jenna says, she thinks she's better than the queen of England." She smelled the water in her mug, then took a sip and swished it around in her mouth before spitting it out in the bucket. "At least I can get that horrible taste out of my mouth now."

"Is the water safe to drink then?"

"I'd say so. You heard what they said, we're to be unharmed for the ritual. So they wouldn't bother with trying to poison us or anything. Otherwise the _Dragonmaster_," she sneered the word. "Whoever he is, will skin them alive for ruining his fun." She took another sip of the water, it soothed her parched throat. Then she nibbled a bit on the bread and the cheese, which was cheddar and not bad.

Drake took a gulp of his own water, then set the mug and the plate aside. He linked his fingers together and stretched his arms over his head, then brought them down and cracked his knuckles with a loud pop. Then he stretched his arms behind his back for a moment. "Okay. I'm ready," he said softly, rubbing his arms with more water.

Then he began to move the silvery cuff up and down, pushing it as high as it would go up his arm and then letting it fall. He bent his arm slightly, curving his hand and bringing his fingers tightly together. Then he attempted to slip the cuff over his hand.

It refused to budge. He wriggled his wrist slightly. It slipped a half an inch over his hand, but no more.

"This could take awhile," he muttered to Arista. He continued to work the cuff around his hand and wrist.

"I'll distract her, so she doesn't realize what you're doing," Arista whispered, then moved off in front of her friend, blocking him from the Seer's view.

The woman's head turned slightly, her dark eyes unfocused. Slowly she blinked, then said, "They'll keep you here, you know, until you're nothing but bones. That's what they did to the other one, the man . . .he stayed a long time, him and the girl. So pretty, she was. Like you, but with hair like mine." She stroked her tangled tresses. "She cried for a long time after they took him away. I could hear her weeping in my dreams. Tears from heaven, my mother said. Angels cry tears from heaven when bad things happen. I've seen them. Oh yes! I've seen the angels!"

"Really? I'd think you've seen devils, with what you've done," Arista growled.

"Devils? Oh, yes, they're here too. The Dragonmaster. He's the big one." She hissed softly, glancing about her wildly. Then she settled back down and said softly, "What have I done? Nothing but what I'm told. Magdalena always does what she's told. Always. She's a good girl. Magdalena Rosvita always is good, just the way Mama likes. Do what they say and you won't get punished. Nobody will hurt you. Promise. Nobody will hurt Magdalena. No one. Master says. And everyone obeys Master."

In spite of herself, Arista found herself feeling sorry for the half-mad creature. Clearly, she had been tortured and broken, to be in such a state. Perhaps she no longer even knew what she was doing. "How long have you been here, Magdalena?"

"Long and long. Longer than the sun in the sky. So long ago and far away," she began to hum tunelessly. "Never leave me, Master says. I need your eyes. Stay, Maggie May. Stay, stay with me. See for me."

"What does he ask you to see? Dragons?"

"Pretty things! All shiny and gold, flying high in the sky. I love them, love to see them fly. Flying higher and higher. No one sees better than Magdalena. I know where they all are." She clapped her hands like a little child, plainly delighted with her own cleverness.

"Does your Master ask you to find them for him?"

"Master says, See for me, Maggie," she murmured. "Have to do what Master says." She held her head in her hands and began to rock back and forth. "Find them for me, Maggie. Don't give me your pathetic whining, woman! I gave you an order! Now do it, or else!" she growled, sounding eerily like an angry man. Then she moaned and shook her head back and forth. "Yes, Master. Maggie's a good girl. I look for them, and I See them and tell Master. Master is happy now. He won't punish Magdalena again. Special Maggie. Master's pet," she crooned, then began to stroke her hair lovingly, as if she were petting a dog.

_Is that how he treats her? Like some kind of dog? Giving her a pat on the head when she does what he wants, or else hurting her when she does something wrong? My God, what kind of horrible person is he? _Arista wondered, filled with loathing for the unnamed man they called the Dragonmaster.

"Magdalena, where are we? Where is this place?"

"Home. Home sweet home. Far away, where no one will find us. She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes," the Seer began to sing, her voice mellow and even.

"Has the Master always been here?"

"Forever and a day. That's how long the mountain's been here. Waiting. Lonely mountain, full of power. Master dreams of it. Wants it. Wants it terrible bad, little one. Has to have it. He tells Maggie, show me how to get it! Show me! But I can't . . .I can't! Such is forbidden! Forbidden!" She sucked in a breath, then began to weep noisily. "Never ever tell, Maggie promised Mama. Master is angry. Bad Maggie! Hurt you, I will, if you don't tell." She began to whimper, her hands stretched out in a pleading gesture. "Please, please, Master. Maggie knows but doesn't know. Forbidden! A secret! A secret! Tell me! No! I promised. No matter what you do, you fiend, I'll never tell. I'll die first," she spat, her eyes glowing with hatred. Then she went limp, her head drooping. "No more. No more. It's all gone. No more magic, no more Magdalena." She brought her hands to her face, and drew them down slowly. "Broken like a baby bird, like all the poor animals. I knew once . . .I knew . . .but now I've forgotten. What did I forget? Can you tell me, please? It was important. Master wants . . .wants to know . . .but I'll never tell." She began to giggle hysterically.

"One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy. Five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret, never to be told!" the Seer chanted. "Seven for a secret! Seven, seven."

Arista, listening to the mad woman's rambling account, was horrified to her very bones. What secret did Magdalena know that the Dragonmaster wanted so badly he tortured her until she went insane? What secret was so terrible that she would allow herself to be tortured and broken rather than reveal it? And how could he make a Seer work for him, especially on command?

_Command. Maybe the Imperius curse? It's an Unforgivable one, but someone who was willing to wage war on bronze dragons wouldn't hesitate an instant over using it. Was that how he broke her? By using it over and over? Or did he use it and Cruciatus too? Probably a combination. That's why she thinks she's his lap dog. Poor Magdalena. I don't think she was ever one of them voluntarily. I think he captured her for her knowledge and her Seer's talent and gradually he broke her to his will. She betrayed her Oath to the dragons, but I don't think she ever knew what she was doing. By then she was his creature, and conditioned to obey him. Can she still be held accountable for her actions? _

She turned to glance back at Drake, who had managed to get half of his hand out of one cuff. "Hey, you're almost out," she whispered, giving him an encouraging grin.

He didn't answer, his whole being was focused on getting the cuff off of his wrist. He twisted his hand another half inch to the right, contorting it into a position that seemed impossible to be in. But somehow he managed it.

He tugged on the cuff with his hand and it slipped off. He held it up, smirking like a Cheshire cat. "One down, one to go."

"Drake, you're amazing!"

"No, that was Houdini. I'm just a copy." Then he added, "But a damn good one." He continued working on the second cuff.

Magdalena was humming softly now, crooning a lullaby. "Hush little baby, don't say a word. . ."

Arista went back to stand near the bars, though she was less concerned now with the Seer noticing what Drake was doing. Magdalena appeared to exist in her own world, full of half dreams and fancies, until someone pulled her out of it.

"Magdalena," she called softly.

The Seer glanced up at her, smiling like a little child.

"D'you know anything about these?" Arista held out her wrists, indicating the glowing bracelets.

"Pretty! Shiny!" the Seer gasped.

"I know. But do you know what they do?"

Magdalena shook her head. "The nice man . . .he told me . . .but I can't remember . . .he said, don't forget the secret word . . .seven for a secret, but not that secret."

"What secret word, Magdalena? Try and remember! Please!"

"Secret magic word . . .it's the key. The key to unlock the door. Nice man says so. My name is Ray . . .a ray of sunshine . . .Maggie likes the sunshine, you can chase the butterflies in it . . . see all the pretty butterflies . . .blue, green, and gold! But Master says no," her mouth turned down in a pout. "No more sun, no more butterflies. Must stay here. Here in the caves, nasty, smelly, dark caves. Hate them! Hate them! Hate them like I hate Master," she lowered her voice to a whisper, then glanced about in fear. "Don't tell! Please don't tell! Please!"

"I won't, Magdalena. I promise," Arista soothed. "It'll be our secret, okay?"

"Yes, yes, a secret. So many secrets. Many, many. Maggie knows but will never ever tell."

"But I need you to tell me this one, Maggie," Arista wheedled, using all of her powers of persuasion. "What did the nice man Ray ask you to remember? You can tell me. I promise I'll never ever tell."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Yes." Arista made an X over her heart. "What was the secret magic word?"

The Seer's brow wrinkled. "It was . . it was . . .serenity!" she cried. "I remember! I remember!" she crowed, dancing around like a demented ballerina. "Maggie remembers! _Serenity_!"

"Hush, Maggie!" Arista cried, alarmed that the woman's shouts would bring some other down to investigate. "You did well, but now you have to be quiet, okay? Shhh. Quiet like a little mouse."

"Okay," the Seer whispered. Then she resumed her seat upon the floor. "It's a secret. Maggie will never tell."

"Thank you," Arista whispered. Then she held out her hands and spoke the command word that released the cuffs. "Serenity."

The glowing null magic field went out and the cuffs expanded, allowing her to slip her hands free of them.

"Arista, I did it!" Drake exclaimed at the same moment. "If only I had my wand. Then maybe I could magic the damn things off of you."

"That won't be necessary. But thanks anyhow." She turned around to show him her wrists.

"What? But how did you get them off?!"

"I had a little help from Magdalena over there." She jerked her head at the other woman.

"Huh? Why would she help you? She's one of them!"

"No she isn't. Not really. They tortured her until they broke her, they made her See for them, but she's not really evil, Drake. Only crazy."

He eyed the mad woman consideringly. "Well, is there any chance you can convince her to unlock the door and let us out?"

Arista shook her head. "I doubt it. She doesn't have the keys." She stuffed the cuffs inside her pocket, they magically shrank to fit inside it.

"You're keeping those?" Drake asked, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Better in our hands than theirs," was all she said.

"Oh. Right, that makes sense," he quickly stuffed his in his pocket as well. Then he glanced resignedly at the door and said, "Guess we'll have to rely on the old standby." He knelt and pulled a long wire out of his sock. "Lockpick."

"What are you, an amateur thief as well as a wizard, Drake?"

"No. But I figured we might need this, so I packed one. A Slytherin is always prepared." He set to work on the lock mechanism.

While he was doing that, Arista sent her thoughts out again to her father, drawing him onward, using her empathic link like a game of hot and cold. Even if they did escape from the cell, she knew that they probably wouldn't be able to escape from the mountain without help. And she knew that she couldn't take on the Dragonmaster by herself, or even with Drake.

Her friend's jimmying of the lock was nearly soundless, enough so Magdalena didn't hear it. She supposed she could have tried an unlocking charm, but somehow she doubted if it would have worked. They had made this cell to hold wizards, so the lock was probably spelled against magic. But obviously they'd never counted on a wizard like Drake, who had studied escape artists. She smiled to herself. _Next time I get stuck in a jail cell, I'll know who to call for a jail break, _she thought. Speaking of calling, she hadn't thought to check and see if they'd taken her spellophone. She felt inside the pocket of her jeans and found that it was missing.

_Blast, that was a present from Remus Lupin!_ She thought angrily. _Wonder what they think they're going to do with it, call my dad? He's the only one with a ring component on the continent. _She could just imagine the conversation.

_Hello?_

Hello, I just wanted to inform you that I have your daughter, sir.

Who the hell is this?

They call me the Dragonmaster, and I just wanted you to know that unless you do exactly as I say, you'll be burying your daughter, understand?

Silence. Is that so, mister? Well, I just want YOU to know, you miserable excuse for a dictator, you don't frighten me with your empty threats. Because my daughter is no longer your prisoner, you cheap imitation of a Death Eater. She's here with me and I'm coming to nail your ass to a wall.

What? But that's impossible!

Nothing is impossible with magic, imbecile. Now quit whining and get off the bloody phone.

Wait! Where are you? I don't see—Ahhh! The Dragonmaster dies, struck down by Inferio. At least that's what should happen, if it were a perfect world. Unfortunately, it isn't. But he'll get his eventually, one way or another.

There was a soft click, and Drake pulled out the bent wire. Then he drew the bolt of the lock and pushed open the cell door. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the open door.

"My hero," Arista grinned, giving him a kiss as she went by.

He grinned back. "Anytime, Miss Snape."

She stepped out of the cell and he followed. "_Accio_ wand!" she heard him mutter.

There was a flash of blue light and Drake's wand appeared in his hand.

She raised an eyebrow. "Hey, when did you learned the improved Summoning charm, Lockwood?"

"This summer. My dad taught me it. It's easier than I thought."

"Can you summon my spellophone?"

"Sure." Then he stared at her. "You mean there's a spell you don't know, Snape?"

She frowned at him. "There are a lot of spells I don't know."

"Yeah, but this is the first time I've ever known a spell before you," he said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "I'll give you a medal later, Lockwood. My phone, please?"

"_Accio_ spellophone!" There was another flash and Arista's spellophone disk appeared in his other hand. He handed it to her with a triumphant smile.

"Thanks. Now let's get out of here."

"Which way?" Drake asked, looking up and down the tunnel.

Arista turned to Magdalena, who had stopped singing and was now on her feet, gazing at them curiously. "Maggie, which way is out in this blasted furnace?"

"I is not supposed to tell you that. Master says watch you only," the Seer stated slyly.

"What if I could make it so you didn't have to obey Master any more?" Arista demanded.

"Arista, what are you up to?" Drake hissed. "We don't have time to play games with a crazy witch."

"Hush, Drake," she ordered softly. "This isn't a game, this is justice." She closed her eyes, summoning both her empathic touch and her healing power. "Will you let me help you, Magdalena? I promise I won't hurt you. I'm a Healer."

The other woman gazed at her, puzzled. "Why? I'm not sick."

"Your body isn't, but I can fix your memory, Maggie. Will you let me?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Okay."

Arista touched her forehead and released her healing talent. A white glow enveloped her hands and Magdalena's face for a brief instant.

Arista's talent could not restore all the damage done to the other woman's mind, for the Dragonmaster had been ruthless in his use of the Imperius curse as well as other types of Memory Charms, but she did what she could in the limited amount of time she could spare. She did manage to restore sanity to the witch for a time, enough so she could remember what had been done to her and the way out of the complex of caves.

"There. That's better, isn't it, Maggie?" she asked, stepping back and lowering her hands.

"Don't call me that!" the other woman snapped, rubbing her eyes. "I hate that name. That's what **he** called me, the arrogant ass," she sniffed, gazing about her with lucid eyes for the first time in over six months. "My name is Magdalena Rosvita, and I work for the Department of Defense as a Seer. Or at least I did until he caught me and made me his slave." Her face twisted into a mask of hatred. "How I hate him! He made me do things, unforgivable things!" Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away stubbornly. "He made me his accomplice to murder, made me break Dragon's Oath. Me, a Seer sworn to uphold the law!"

"It wasn't your fault, Magdalena," Arista soothed, wincing at the waves of self-loathing and revulsion coming off the magician. "You were under the Imperius curse, you didn't know what you were doing."

"That's no excuse. I should have died rather than did his bidding. But I was too weak, and this is the result." She shuddered suddenly, remembering something unpleasant. "Come on, let's get you away from here. You've suffered his hospitality long enough. The last thing you need is to meet him in person. He's _not _a nice person, trust me. He loves to hurt people, especially women, gets a real kick out of it, the scumbag bastard."

"I know," Arista said softly. "I saw a little of what he did to you. He tortured you with the Cruciatus curse."

"That was the least of what he did to me, believe me," Magdalena snorted, her mouth twisting bitterly. "You don't want the details, kid, believe me. It'll give you nightmares for the rest of your life. Suffice to say that I'll bear scars from what he did till the day I die." She beckoned them down the left hand portion of the tunnel. "This way. What's your name, by the way? I owe you one for this," she tapped her forehead.

"Arista," she answered. "And this is my friend, Drake. I couldn't heal you all the way, you know. But it's better than nothing, I guess."

"Kid, I'm myself for the first time in over six months. That's good enough for me. I know my name, what I am, and who my enemies are. Soon as I show you the way out, I'm going back there and kicking some butt. That Dragonmaster Gerald Crouch owes me for six months of pain and agony, and I mean to get my pound of flesh," she declared grimly. "Nobody makes Magdalena Rosvita a slave and gets off Scott free. No way in hell. Payback sucks, Gerry baby."

The two children followed the Seer down the tunnel, as anxious as their unexpected rescuer to get out of the mountain.

**A/ N: Okay you got three chapters out of me, so please review them!!! Or Severus will dose you with a Babbling Idiot Beverage!**

**Next up the final showdown with the Dragonmaster and Snape, the dragons, and the kids! Who will live and who will die? Predictions??**


	19. Potions Master & Apprentice

**Potions Master & Apprentice, Dragon & Wyvern**

While Drake and Arista made their way through the warren of tunnels under Magdalena's guidance, Professor Snape and company followed Scout through the forest, guided by the magehound's uncanny nose and Arista's bond with her father. They flew on Fireflash, who glided just above the treetops, close enough to mark Scout's progress with his dragonsight yet not be hampered by the trees catching in the delicate membranes of his wings. Sunstrike flew slightly behind him, alert for anyone trying to sneak up on them.

Dusk had fallen and the sky was speckled with stars. A three-quarter moon was rising as they flew, its soft light casting a gentle radiance down upon the forest and the still smoking volcano. All the tourists had either gone to bed or back to their campsites for the night, so they would not be witness to the magical battle that would soon take place near St. Helen's, lucky for them.

Scout raced ahead doggedly, his sore paw hindering him a bit, but not enough for him to quit the chase. Magehound stubbornness served him well, and his love for Arista did the rest. Severus didn't even have to order the dog to hunt this last time. Scout had awoken a bit after nightfall and shook himself, allowed Snape to examine his foot and remove the compress, apply some salve and a fresh bandage, then took to the trail without prompting. He had now been running for over twenty minutes without stopping, even with his sore foot, a true testament to a magehound's legendary perseverance and stamina.

_They truly are amazing dogs_, Snape thought as he flew after him. _And Scout is among the most amazing of them all, going back to seek out a trail mere hours after being seriously injured and near death. He truly IS a necromancer's worst nightmare, like they said._ Then he concentrated on the link between himself and Arista, correcting Flash's course ever so slightly to the north as he felt his daughter's presence grow stronger in that direction. The link was not quite as precise as a locator spell, but with it he was at least assured of the general direction and the fact that she was still alive. That in itself relieved his mind immensely and banished most of his stomach-churning anxiety. When he had first felt her touch on his mind, and recognized it for what it was, he had nearly wept openly with relief. Only the fact that Cheyenne was there had enabled him to keep his emotions in check. Now he could concentrate on the upcoming duel with his former student, who was going to be in for a very rude awakening, he vowed grimly.

Severus had drunk both the Fireproof and the Anti-Stasis potion before getting on Fireflash. They would last at least six hours, which was more than enough time for them to get to the dragonslayers' lair, rescue Arista and Drake, and teach them the error of their wicked ways.

Behind him, Cheyenne sat still and silent, dreaming her own thoughts of revenge, no doubt, on those who had murdered her father. She had summoned a pouch of throwing stars to her before they had set out and torn off a strip of her shirt to serve as a headband, keeping her wild hair out of her eyes. "Too much of a distraction in a fight," was all she said.

Ten minutes later, Scout led them to a rocky stretch of ground leading right up to the base of the volcano. Beyond was a slit in the mountain, it looked just wide enough for two people to pass by. Severus squinted, for it seemed to flicker and vanish even as he looked at it. "Concealment spell," he said to Cheyenne.

"A good one too," she said.

"Misdirection spells galore too," Fireflash said. I keep wanting to leave and go off to the right. Only the fact that Scout led us here is letting me fight it."

Scout walked forward out of the trees, quivering with excitement and the knowledge that the hunt was at its end. All that remained was for his master and the others to capture the quarry and his job here was done. The dog was not affected by the misdirection spells or the chameleon spells because he didn't rely on sight or even hearing to track, only his magnificent nose, and that told him quite clearly that the man in the red cloak was beyond, in the cave in the fiery mountain.

He loped across the rocky field, mindful of his sore foot. All of a sudden, he halted, and his head lowered and he snarled warningly. There was an unfamiliar reptilian stench in the air, one that he neither recognized nor liked. It smelled of poison and danger and he stopped and tested the air. It was coming directly from the cave where his quarry had holed up, an odor of old blood and venom and the dry musty smell of a very large lizard, much bigger than the magehound.

There came a soft hiss, and a long snout with elongated fangs and yellow eyes peered out of the entrance. Scout crouched lower, making himself as small a target as possible, and growled again. He knew he was no threat to the big beast, but nevertheless, he was not going to seem easy prey either.

The head was followed by a long snaky neck in patterns of green and black and two clawed feet, wings pressed tightly to its body, plus and extra long whip-like tail with a bulbous stinger on the end of it. The tip of the stinger was coated with a purple fluid.

Above the dog, Fireflash drew in a soft breath of surprise. "They've got a wyvern guarding the entrance, Sev."

"Two," corrected Sunstrike. "He's got a mate."

Cheyenne exchanged uneasy glances with Snape. "I didn't come prepared to fight a wyvern."

"Leave the wyverns to us," Sunstrike ordered. "They're our natural enemies, the slithering, venomous dragonet eaters." She shot a look at Fireflash. "I'll draw their fire while you land and let Sev and Cheyenne off, Flash. Then we'll double team 'em."

"Sounds like a plan, Sunny," the bronze agreed.

Sunstrike glided down through the trees, low enough for her to be seen by the two wyverns. They looked up at her approach and their yellow eyes glinted eerily. They gave short sharp cries, similar to the wails of a child, and launched themselves up into the air, their whip-like tails snapping.

The bronze female gave a mocking howl and flicked her tail contemptuously at them before arcing higher into the night sky, drawing the two after her. "Come, slither wyrms, let's play a game of tag!" she called as she soared.

Fireflash glided down to a landing just before the wavering rock face. Severus and Cheyenne quickly dismounted. "Here's where I leave you guys. Good luck and good hunting! Now I've got some wyrm tail to scorch!" he was airborne in moments, breathing a short burst of dragonfire that strafed across the wyverns' flight path, making them scramble to get out of the way.

Severus drew his wand, then whistled Scout to his side. "Show us the way in, boy."

The magehound shook his floppy ears then walked forward, Severus's hand gripping his collar, and Cheyenne taking the Potions Master's other hand. Looking directly at the spelled entrance made him dizzy, so he fastened his gaze on Scout and let the dog guide him.

The magehound never hesitated, he walked right up to the spelled entrance and walked through it as if nothing was there. Once past the misdirection field, Severus lifted his head and looked about him.

The narrow crevice had been misleading, for the entrance widened, large enough to permit the two wyverns access. There was an acrid stench in the air, probably from the wyverns, and Cheyenne wrinkled her nose and sneezed. The cavern was dimly lit, just enough for them to see their way across the large rock floor to a small tunnel just beyond. When Severus reached out a hand to touch the obsidian rock wall, he found it warm to the touch. _Of course it is, you're under a volcano, after all_, he reminded himself.

"I doubt they built these caves," he said to Cheyenne as they made their way across the floor. "They must have been here for years and nobody knew of them."

"Yes," the younger woman answered. Then she cocked her head, listening. "I hear voices up ahead."

Scout pricked up his ears and snarled, low and menacing. He recognized the scent of one of the people in the tunnel. Snape released the dog's collar, knowing that if the hound chose to attack, he wouldn't be able to control him anyway, and better to let the dog go now than risk being pulled off balance when the animal lunged.

They could now hear footsteps along the tunnel, and a man's voice growled, "I tell you, I heard the wyverns screeching, Kyle."

"You're just jumpy," said another dismissively. "Ever since that little apprentice witch hightailed it outta here, you think you hear Hunters in every shadow. I keep telling you, nobody can find the place. The Master knows how to cast concealment spells better than anybody I've ever known."

"Still, we'd better check it out. He'll have our hides if we let anything slip in here while we're on duty," the first man said.

"Sentry duty! Ridiculous waste of time, if you ask me. That's why we got the damn wyverns, isn't it? Otherwise, why keep the wyrms at all?"

"Because that's how the Master wants it, Darkholm."

"Don't you ever get tired of him treating us like lackeys, Thatcher? I mean, he's not God, just another necromancer like the rest of us. Sure, he's strong and all, but he's still human." Kyle groused.

"Not anymore, Kyle. Not after he completes the ritual," the other hissed softly. "Then he'll have the dragon magic in him and he'll be immortal, just like the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord!" sneered the other wizard derisively. "Listen to yourself, Jeremy! You sound like one of those superstitious yokels I used to gull at the county fair back in Michigan. You English wizards make boogey men out of every dark wizard who can cast a few Unforgivable curses. If your Dark Lord was so powerful, how come he got offed by his own spell?"

"He will rise again, it was foretold," Thatcher intoned. "And all those loyal to him will be rewarded and everyone else will die."

"Oh, right. And I'll bet the Seer who uttered that fake prophecy was as batty as our Maggie May. Typical Seer gibberish. They said the same thing about Jesus Christ thousands of years ago, and you'll note He still hasn't come back yet. What makes you think this Dark Lord of your will be any different?"

"The Master says so."

"You believe everything he says, Thatcher? He lies as readily as the next guy."

"You dare question the Master, Kyle? You blasphemer!"

"I don't buy all his immortality crap, Thatcher, that's all. There's no easy path to immortality, it's a myth. Death comes for us all, the good and the bad, and there's no escaping it. So best to live it up while you can, and leave the resurrection stuff to God."

"If the Master ever heard you, Darkholm . . ."

"What, you gonna run and tell him, like a good little ass kisser, Thatcher? And here I thought you had some guts, at least, unlike your stupid brother, who'd jump over a cliff if Crouch told him to."

"You presume too much, Darkholm. The Master invented the Guild and it is a privilege to be of the Brotherhood."

"A privilege, is it? Stuck inside a warren of damn caves beneath a volcano ain't _my_ idea of privilege, Thatcher. Maybe it's yours, but my idea of a good time involves lots of Galleons, booze, and a few dancing girls from Vegas. And Crouch never invented the Dragonslayer Guild, it's been around for centuries, only thing is it was never active over here till now. Learn your history, for Chrissake! Now let's go see what's got the stupid wyverns all upset."

They could hear the two wizards approaching the entrance to the tunnel.

Snape motioned for Cheyenne to hide in the shadows to the left while he went to the right. He didn't even need to use a Shadow Feint charm, for the cavern had plenty of shadows to hide in.

The two wizards stepped out of the tunnel, pausing to glance about the cavern. One of them wore traditional red robes and carried a wand. The other was taller, with blond hair and was dressed in scruffy blue pants and a long sleeved blue shirt with a dragon's skull on it. His boots echoed loudly on the stone floor.

"They're gone," said Kyle, the taller of the pair. "Must have gone after whatever it was."

"I _told_ you I heard something."

"Yeah, you're a real Tonto, Thatcher. Whaddaya want, a medal or a monument?"

"You'd not be so glib, Kyle if the Master were here," blustered Thatcher.

The other rolled his eyes, taking another step into the dimly lit cavern.

"Surprise, Kyle!" snarled Cheyenne, lifting her hands and making a flinging gesture. "Told you I'd be back!" Two glittering throwing stars flew out of her hands, nailing the startled wizard in the eyes and the throat. He collapsed with barely a gasp.

"_That's_ for my father, you sadistic pig!"

Before Severus could stop him, Scout had sprang forward, hitting Jeremy Thatcher with his full weight of ninety-five pounds. The red robed wizard went down with a howl, the dog's jaws a hairsbreadth from his throat.

"Help! Kyle! Tom! Anybody! Get the damn beast off of me!"

Scout continued to snarl, his blue eyes blazing with utter hatred.

"Hold him, Scout!" Severus ordered, before the dog could bite the necromancer's throat. He moved to lay a restraining hand on the dog's collar, his wand pointed directly at the other wizard's face. "I wouldn't move if I were you," he warned. He kicked the other's wand away from him. Then he took another look at the frightened young man. "Well, if it isn't Jeremy Thatcher. I always knew you'd never amount to anything decent, boy."

"Professor **Snape**?" the other gasped, goggling at his former teacher. "What the bloody hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Performing a little pest control, Thatcher, among other things," he drawled. "I need directions in this maze. Where's this Dragonmaster you spoke of? And what do you know about two children recently brought here?"

"I ain't telling you nothing, _sir_!" Jeremy sneered.

"Wanna bet?" Cheyenne inquired silkily, coming to loom over him, her eyes hard as agates. "Scout, tear his damn throat out!" she ordered sharply.

The magehound growled even more fiercely and drew his head back slightly, as if he really was going to obey the girl's orders.

"Okay! Okay!" Thatcher sobbed. "I'll talk! Just get that demon hound away from me, please! I c-can't stand dogs."

"I remember how much you couldn't stand them, Thatcher," Snape said harshly. "When I caught you and your brother and Crouch torturing one in Knockturn Alley. Remember that night, Thatcher?"

"Yes! You nearly pulled my damn ear off, you slimy git!" the other spat. "And all over a useless mangy cur."

"That useless mangy cur did more for society than you ever will!" Snape growled, his eyes flashing. "Except now you might actually be of use for once in your miserable life. Start talking, Thatcher! Who is this Dragonmaster and where is he?"

"Get the dog away and I'll tell you." He was shivering now.

"Why so scared, Thatcher?" Snape crooned. "Afraid he'll bite you? Does he remind you of all those other dogs you tortured as a child? Not so funny now, is it, when you're at _their_ mercy, is it?"

"Please! I'll tell you whatever you want, just . . get . . it . . .AWAY!" he wailed. "It's already bitten me once."

"Oh?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "So_ you're_ the one responsible for almost killing him, are you?"

"It was an accident!" Thatcher babbled. "We didn't know it was your dog, Professor!"

"Like it would have made a difference! Don't lie to me, Thatcher! I know you, boy. You're nothing but a spineless weasel who delights in hurting anything too weak to fight back. No, Scout stays where he is, Thatcher. And you're going to answer all my questions truthfully, without lying, because if not I'll tell him to bite you, one bite for every lying word that comes out of your mouth."

At that, his former student went utterly to pieces. "I'll talk, I'll tell you everything! Only don't let him hurt me . . ._please_, Professor! The Dragonmaster, he's my old friend, Gerald Crouch, you remember him, he's the nephew of Barty Crouch that works for the Ministry. That's where we got the information for the Dragonslayer Guild, Gerry stole it out of Barty's office one night when he was there, pretending to help his uncle with something. He said the Guild used to be one of the real powers in the world, and that it could be again, if only we trusted him and his vision. He said that he would gain more power than the Dark Lord himself, and all we had to do was come over here and learn how to kill a few bronze dragons."

"And you jumped at the chance, didn't you, you puppy killer?" snarled Cheyenne. "Because you thought killing a bronze dragon was no worse than drowning a kitten, right? Because they were merely dumb beasts, unworthy of friendship or life. Isn't that one of your Guild mottos?"

"So what if it is? We were meant to inherit the earth, not them! It says so right in the Bible! Humans were overlords over all the animals, and what the hell is a dragon but another big lizard with wings?"

"Bronze dragons are intelligent magical feeling creatures, scumbag!" Cheyenne cried, her hands clenched into fists. "They know more than you ever will and they're smarter than you and all your relatives put together and they were here before we ever were! What gives you the bloody right to slaughter them like cattle?"

"Because we can," Thatcher replied. "Survival of the fittest, girlie."

Cheyenne backhanded him across the mouth. "Racist pig! _You _aren't fit to be in the same gene pool as a worm, much less a human being. You're nothing but a stain on the tree of humanity, Thatcher, and you should be wiped off the face of the earth, necromancer. Now where is your damn Master? Tell me quick, before I lose my temper and kill you myself."

"You don't have the guts, girlie!" sneered Thatcher. "I saw how you begged and cried for your daddy all those nights ago, when the Master worked him over. You weren't so brave then!"

"You stupid ass, what do you think I did to your friend Kyle Darkholm?" Cheyenne screamed. "Those weren't flower petals I threw at him, they were shuriken."

"Kyle's . . .**dead**?"

"Dead and gone to hell, Thatcher." Snape interjected, before Cheyenne could reply. "Now why don't you answer the lady's question before we send you to join him?"

"He's got the main room off to the left of the hall. But sometimes he's not in it, he could be in his workroom, that's down the tunnel to the right, near the crater of the volcano," Jeremy said, spitting the words out as fast as he could, his defiance utterly gone.

"And the children you captured last night?" Snape pressed. "Where are they?"

"In the cell, down below. Maggie's with them watching them. _She_ knows where it is," he said, jerking his chin at Cheyenne. "She and her father were guests of ours for about two weeks."

"Two weeks of hell, Jemmy boy," Cheyenne hissed, her eyes dark. "Don't think I've forgotten."

Thatcher gulped and went pale as a dead fish. "W-what are you gonna do to me?"

"Nothing you haven't done to others," Cheyenne answered nastily, then snarled, "_Stupefy_!" A red beam of light shot out of her finger and struck the cringing Thatcher in the head. He went limp immediately. "We might need him later, to testify," she said shortly, at Snape's raised eyebrow. She twirled her hand and a coil of black rope appeared. "Normally I'd use my cuffs to secure him, but they took them from me. Still, this constrictor rope works just as well. The more you struggle, the tighter it gets," she explained at Severus's puzzled look. "But it won't kill you, just make you damned uncomfortable." She bent to tie Thatcher's ankles and wrist together, making the rope pretty tight. "There! That ought to hold him. Now to find the Dragonmaster. _He's_ the one I really want dead."

"He's mine," Severus interjected. "I have an old score to settle with him."

"Fine. But I get the rest," she agreed swiftly.

"Come, Scout," Severus ordered. "The sooner we deal with them, the sooner we can get Arista and Drake and go home."

They left the trussed Jem Thatcher lying in the middle of the floor and continued onwards down the tunnel into the main complex.

* * * * * *  
Fireflash climbed higher, avoiding the female wyvern's lashing tail by mere inches. The darker of the pair, and also larger, she proved a formidable opponent. She was about half of the bronze's size, but almost as quick. She had no breath weapon, but her major mode of attack was her long whip-like tail, with its venomous stinger at the end of it. Wyvern venom was one of the most potent poisons in the world, and it could kill a human in minutes. Dragons struck with it usually did not die, unless hit multiple times, but the venom usually made them quite sick. That being so, Fireflash was keen to avoid her tail.

Her other weapons were her claws and her fangs, which protruded over her jaw and were curved like a serpent's. She carried no venom in them, but they could deliver a nasty bite and she could whip her neck about like snake striking. Yet her short stubby wings could not match the bronze's for flight, and he could outfly her easily.

He used his greater speed and size to cut her off as she attempted to climb above him, using aerial maneuvers he'd learned long before as a newly fledged dragonet. He closed his wings and dove on her, his claws scoring great slashes in her back.

She screeched in fury and snapped her tail at him, but Fireflash ducked and the stinger whipped by harmlessly.

"Nice try, sister," he cried, then drew his head back and sucked in a mouthful of air.

The wyvern, recognizing the prelude to a breath of dragonfire, rolled and attempted to dive back towards the ground, but her shorter wings could not maneuver quickly enough.

Flash's burst of flame caught the outer edge of her tail, singing it badly.

She gave another howl of rage mixed with agony and flew straight at him, blinded by uncontrollable rage.

He arced up and over, turning a complete one-hundred and eighty degrees in midair, and her snake-like fangs closed on a few tufts of his tail tip. She struck again, and this time her fangs scored his shoulder, but they glanced off his adamantine-like scales, and he barely felt it.

He slapped her sharply across the snout with one clawed forefoot, knocking her halfway across the sky. "Time to end this match," he said half to himself, then closed in for the kill.

Above him, Sunstrike fought the male of the pair, and she was just as deadly as Fireflash. Wyverns were short-sighted and hated bright light, which was why they preferred to lair deep in underground caves and only hunt at night. They were the polar opposite of the sunlight loving bronzes.

Sunstrike waited until the male wyvern was almost opposite her, his stubby wings beating frantically to keep him aloft, then she opened her frills on her neck, which stored sunlight when needed, since a bronze needed sunlight to act as a catalyst for some of the plants they consumed. Twin beams of concentrated light shot out of her frills, right into the wyvern's yellow eyes.

The wyvern screamed, shaking his head frantically, blinded by Sunstrike's blast of light.

Sunstrike climbed higher, knowing she had to finish this quickly, for her light attack was sure to draw attention from any Muggles happening to glance at the sky just then. The blinded wyvern was flying awkwardly, unable to orient himself.

Sunstrike closed her wings and extended all four sets of claws. Then she dove upon the hapless wyvern like a bolt of lightning.

The wyrm heard the rush of air and looked up, the yellow eyes tracking blindly. Sunstrike's dive took it in midair, hitting it hard enough to break its back. It hung limply in her claws, writhing, until she ended its suffering with a single bite to the back of the head.

Then she tossed the corpse into the crater of the volcano, disposing of any evidence of a magical creature neatly.

Fireflash had finished off the female with another quick burst of flame, and he too grabbed what remained of the charred wyvern and threw it into St. Helen's. Then he hovered for a moment, regaining his breath. He shot an appreciative grin at Sunstrike. "Not a bad scrap, eh, Sunny? Just like old times, when we used to run patrol over the Appalachians and clear out whole nests of the slithering wyrms."

She grinned back, cleaning her talons absently of the wyvern blood. "I remember when we used to fight two and three of them each. Now that was a real fight. This was just an appetizer. Let's circle the volcano a few times, Flash. I feel something stirring."

"Me too. Somebody's messing with the magnetic fields under the earth. The earth aura is all warped, tangled like a skein of thread. Some idiot dark wizard is trying to harness the power of the volcano again, I think."

"The damn fool!" Sunstrike swore. "That can't be done. The last time one of them tried it, Vesuvius erupted and buried Pompeii and Herculaneum. When will they ever learn? Don't they read their own histories?"

"Guess not. Otherwise they wouldn't keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again." Fireflash said, then leveled out to fly a circuit around the entire valley the volcano overlooked, a masking spell hiding him from sight.

After a moment, Sunstrike followed him, peering worriedly into the lava crater as she flew. Bubbles of magma and superheated gas burst on the surface of the pool of lava and she felt the earth rumble softly in warning.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, down in the depths of the earth, Magdalena led Arista and Drake through the labyrinth of tunnels that honeycombed the mountain. She explained that the caverns had always been there, the only thing Gerald Crouch had done was reclaim them for his own use. It was an ideal place for the dragonslayers to hide, and to also cast dark magic, for the emanations from the volcano made it difficult to trace such activity.

"But what does he need all that power _for_, Magdalena?" Arista asked.

"He wants to become a god, I think," the Seer answered with a bitter laugh. "He's a megalomaniac, he has this grand vision of ruling the world or something. Me, I think he's been smoking too much midnight mushroom powder. He tells us he's going to bring back the Dragonslayer Guild and exterminate all the bronze dragons first. Then, when he has enough power from their deaths and hearts, he's going to use it to conquer the world. Whole countries will bow to him, or else be destroyed."

"He's been using the hearts to make Dragon Breath, right?" Drake surmised.

"Yes, and also to gain power in his rituals. He's taken the magic of the five bronze dragons we've slain and used it to create a spell that he thinks will harness the power of St. Helen's. With the power of the volcano to draw upon, he'll be virtually unstoppable."

"But—that's _insane!"_ Arista cried. "No wizard could handle that much power, even with a filtering spell. He'll go mad just trying to control it, if that's even possible. Otherwise he'll destroy himself."

"Let's hope he tries it then. Good riddance, I say!" Drake said.

"No, because if he tries and fails, it'll trigger an eruption," Arista said.

"You are correct, child." Magdalena said. "And that was what he wanted me to tell him so desperately. For the Rosvitas know the secret of harnessing the power of the earth safely. But you can only do so once a year, and you can never harness a volcano, it's simply too volatile. But he didn't want to accept that explanation, and he insisted I was hiding something, some key that would enable him to focus the volcano's energy and make himself into an immortal. When I refused to tell him the secret of harnessing earth energy, he tortured me. I knew that such knowledge in the wrong hands could prove deadly for everyone, and so I refused him, time and again, until he broke me apart, putting me under the Imperius curse repeatedly until I was little more than his puppet. But I never revealed my secret to him, I made myself forget it, and not all his mind probes and Veritaserum could pry it out of me."

"Can you remember it now?" Arista asked gently.

"Not completely. Better for everyone that I don't. Bad enough he made me See for him and be responsible for killing five bronze dragons. Five of them, dearest God! That's enough to earn me a life sentence in Inferno right there, if I'm lucky. That's always assuming the dragons don't hunt me down first. Then I'll have to do my explaining to Jesus."

"But if you weren't under the Imperius and tortured into doing their bidding, you never would have helped them, right?" Drake said.

"Hell, no! I used to use my gift to find missing kids and that kind of thing, not to hunt down bronze dragons and their Advocate." She shook her head sadly, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "They killed him, you know. Ray Merrick, the Dragon's Advocate. Gerald used his blood and magic in a bizarre ritual to bind some wyverns to him to guard the entrance to the base. They made his daughter watch. Poor kid. It was awful. I saw it too, but I didn't really know what I was seeing half the time. Crouch is a sadist, he made the ritual longer than necessary so he could savor every drop of pain. He feeds off of it, like a vampire."

Both children shuddered at that, knowing that if it hadn't been for Magdalena, they might be facing just such a fate.

Magdalena spat on the floor. "_That _for the Dragonmaster, as he calls himself! He made me unclean, my power twisted. I'm no one's lap dog, to be at his beck and call. Yet he made me one. I can never forgive him. Never!" her eyes glittered strangely, and Arista feared she was slipping back into the edge of madness. "But he'll pay for his sins. This I know. I've Seen his death, he'll die on the claws of dragons, given over to them by a former acquaintance of his, a dark haired master of potions and combat. What goes around comes around, Gerry dear!" she threw back her head and laughed, high and shrill. "How ironic! He who sought to master dragons will be slain by them!"

"Magdalena, keep it down, please!" Arista hushed her frantically. "Otherwise someone will hear you and there goes our chance at escaping. How much farther is it?"

The Seer quit laughing, glancing about her. "Not far, girl. Not far. Just past this turning and through the ritual chamber, then one last tunnel and we're at the back gate. Always have a back door, that's Crouch's motto. Follow me."

She moved off down the passage.

Drake leaned over to whisper in Arista's ear, "You sure it's safe to trust her? What if she's still under the Imperius and doesn't know it?"

"She's not. When I healed her, I broke the last of the compulsion. She's free of it."

"Well, she's still not all there, by my lights. Suppose she forgets the way out?"

"We just have to pray she doesn't. It's not like we've got a whole lot of choices, Lockwood. She's the best chance we have of getting out of here alive."

"Think she was right about Crouch?"

"Maybe. Unless she just wants him dead so bad she imagined it. But given her talent, I'd say she could be right. We'll know eventually. Come on, let's catch up, we don't want to lose her." She hurried after the rapidly disappearing figure of the half-mad Seer.

Magdalena halted suddenly, and Arista banged into her, not expecting her to stop dead. "Shhh," the Seer whispered. "Ahead is the ritual cavern, where he works his magic. Sometimes he's there, going over bits and pieces of spells." She put a finger to her lips, then edged into the cavern, which was lit by the red glow of a river of lava running through it at the far end. A stone bridge spanned the narrow stream of liquid fire.

In the center of the cavern was a massive block of obsidian that had been worn smooth on the top. Something rested atop the slab, but Arista couldn't tell what it was from this distance. She hissed the words to a chameleon charm, which would allow her to blend into her surroundings the way a chameleon did.

Magdalena nodded in approval and performed the same charm, creeping noiselessly across the cavern.

Behind them, Drake murmured a Shadow Cloak charm and vanished.

They needn't have worried, the ritual cavern was empty of any necromancers.

"Across there is the tunnel that leads to the back door," Magdalena told them, pointing a finger. "Then you're home free, kids."

"So are you," Arista said. "We'll vouch for you with the Hunters and the dragons if we have to."

"That's nice, but I'm not going with you, kid. I have a few scores to settle with Gerry and company first. If I survive, well then. we'll see about you acting as my defense lawyer."

Something about the way she said that last made Arista uneasy._ What does she know that I don't? Has she Seen her own death as well? Or is she planning to die here so she doesn't have to face the Council? Something tells me she doesn't think she's going to get out of here. _  
But the Seer did not hesitate as she made her way towards the small stone bridge. The air was stiflingly hot now and sweat rolled off all of them in waves, until their clothes were dripping wet. As they walked past the obsidian alter, for that was what it was, Arista glanced up and nearly screamed in fright.

For there was a body upon the altar.

"Holy God! What—who is_ that_?" she gasped, one hand going to her heart.

"Ray Merrick," Magdalena answered promptly. "For some reason Gerry wanted to preserve his body, that's why he's still here."

Drake was gazing at the corpse in fascinated revulsion. "What's he plan on doing with it, using it as a decoration?"

"Who knows? Maybe he's a necrophile as well as a megalomaniac." Magdalena said, her mouth twisting into a grimace of hatred. "With Gerry you just never know. He's unpredictable."

Arista peered once more at the corpse, which had the appearance of a wax doll. She noticed something glinting on the dead man's chest. She stood on tiptoe to see what it was.

It was a round gold medallion, a little larger than a golf ball. On it was a picture of bronze dragon, wings spread and underneath it the motto, _Fidelus Draconis Amicus_, which roughly translated from Latin meant "A Loyal Friend to Dragons". It was the Advocate's motto, and only the Advocate was ever allowed to wear the Amulet, which had been enchanted by the Council to allow the wearer to speak and understand dragonspeech.

It wasn't something she thought a person like Crouch had any right to, so she cast a Summoning charm and the Amulet flew off the corpse's neck and into her hand.

"Arista, what are you about?" Drake asked.

"Regaining stolen property," she answered, showing him the Advocate's Amulet. "This belongs to the Advocate's apprentice, or whoever the dragons select as their new Advocate. I'm not leaving it here for Crouch to suck the magic out of it." She tucked the medallion in her pocket.

"Good for you!" Magdalena praised. "That's one less thing he can use against us." She moved down and across the cavern, walking across the stone bridge. "Hurry, kids. He could return here any minute."

They quickly raced after her, like a pair of ducklings after their mother.

Arista shook slightly as she set foot on the stone bridge, for she had never liked being too close to fire and the lava stream just under her feet frightened her, but not enough to cause her to freeze. _Follow Magdalena. Just follow Magdalena_, she chanted in her head, and forced herself to move one foot in front of the other until she was across the span and safe on the other side.

Once they were out of the cavern and in the tunnel opposite the bridge, the temperature dropped noticeably by several degrees and they all breathed a little easier. "Almost there," the Seer panted, smiling faintly. "Oh, how Gerry darling will scream when he realizes his precious chickens have flown the coop!"

It was then that Drake began to actually believe they would escape this warren of pain and death, for they could see the tunnel exit just up ahead, it gave out onto a moonlit clearing.

Until two large men stepped from the shadows on either side of the exit, scowling. "What's this, Maggie my dear?" asked one, a hulking fellow with a scar upon his face. "Going for a little midnight stroll, are you?"

"That's none of your business, Adolf," Magdalena said shortly. "That's between me and the Master."

"Is that so?" the bigger man stared at her, his blue eyes narrowed. "Why would he allow his precious Seer to roam about at night outside? There's bears and wildcats abroad in the woods, y'know. They'd just love to dine on a tasty morsel like you, Maggie darling." He leered at her.

Behind her, the two children were frozen, praying that neither of the dragonslayers noticed them, for their concealment charms were wearing off and they could now be seen partially.

"I'm on an errand for the Master, Adolf," Magdalena said, still playing the role of the crazy Seer. "Now stand aside and let me pass, or else face the wrath of the Dragonmaster."

"Getting a bit above yerself, aren't you, dearie?" sneered Tom Thatcher. "Wasn't so long ago that I made you crawl to me on yer hands and knees like a puppy, Maggie May."

Magdalena stiffened, going rigid. Arista could feel her struggling to contain her fury.

The big sandy-haired wizard chuckled, elbowing Adolf. "Remember that, Adolf? When the Master used to let us have fun with Maggie, telling her to act like a dog, eat scraps off the floor and bark and stuff?"

This potent reminder of her endless humiliation at their hands was too much for the Seer to bear. It had been one thing to endure it when she was under the Imperius and half insane, but to endure it now, when she was once more in her right mind, was too much.

"Those days are done, Tom Thatcher!" she spat, bringing her hand up and pointing her index finger at him. "See how _you _like it, you rotten snarky jackass! **Imperio**!"

Tom staggered, as if he'd been struck, then his eyes went blank, unfocused.

"What's this? You _dare _to curse him?" Adolf growled. "I'll teach you your proper place, woman!"

"Act like a monkey, Tom!" Magdalena ordered.

The blond wizard obeyed, scratching himself and making monkey noises, crawling about on all fours.

Then she cried, "Run, Arista! Quickly!"

Adolf's jaw dropped as the two children pushed past him, heading for the exit which was about ten feet down the corridor. "You've sold us out, you traitor! Doublecrossing hag!"

"Payback for everything that was done to me, Adolf Jorgmunder!" she flared.

"We'll see about that!" Adolf shouted, gesturing at the two fleeing children. "_Finito exito!" _  
To their horror, the exit they were racing towards suddenly ceased to exist, the stone sealing itself before their very eyes.

"No!" Drake wailed. "Now what?"

"Now we help her fight," Arista said, spinning around. "It's the only way we can get out of here."

But before they could do so, they saw Adolf gesture again and scream, "_Desiccare_!"

Magdalena attempted to block whatever curse he threw at her, but she wasn't fast enough, her reflexes slowed from months of inactivity. A purple mist settled over her.  
To their horror, they saw the Seer's flesh start to smoke, as if she were being burned alive. Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. Blood began leaking from her pores and her skin began to shrivel up like a dried raisin.

Adolf laughed in delight, his eyes bright with amusement. "How do you like that, traitor? The Mummy Curse! Works better than Avada Kedavra, I think."

By this time Magdalena was little more than a shriveled husk upon the floor, her body withering so quickly it was dust in two minutes.

"No!" Arista screamed in denial, unable to believe that the Seer was gone.

Adolf turned to them. "Now, children, it's time for you to go back where you belong."

Tom groaned, coming out of the Imperius curse now that Magdalena was dead.

"Go to hell, monster!" Arista shouted, then brought her hands together and shouted, "_Aria pila_!" A glowing icy blue spear of pure magical force appeared in her hand and she threw it at Adolf.

The spear struck his hastily erected shield and shattered upon it, making him grunt. "Want to play rough, do you, missy?" He gestured at her. "_Immobilus_!"

But she was prepared for his hex, reacting instinctively to counter it just as Colin and Professor Snape had taught her. She twirled her finger in a circle, casting Whirlwind Deflection.

His Paralysis hex was deflected back and off to the side, bouncing off the wall and striking the unsuspecting Tom by mistake. The big wizard toppled over, paralyzed.

Adolf gaped at her, then snarled, "Oh, you're gonna pay for that, girl!" He twitched his fingers at her again. "_Metamorphia amphibia_!"

"_Reflectivo_!" she shouted, invoking the Mirror defense.

His frog transfiguring hex struck her conjured mirror and bounced back towards him. He gestured frantically, and it was dispelled.

"_Impedimentia_!" Drake yelled, casting a Leglock jinx at the big wizard.

Adolf sneered and waved a hand, and it was blocked. "That the best you can do, sonny?"

"_Insectsortia_!" Drake snarled.

Crawling insects appeared on top of the big man, but he banished them with a word. "Pitiful. I could duel better when I was twelve."

Drake looked at Arista. Their eyes met in shared understanding. By themselves they were no match for the master wizard. But using combination magic . . .Arista opened her mind and linked with her friend. Then they pointed a wand and a hand at the snickering necromancer and yelled, "_STUPEFY_!"

The resulting beam of red energy blasted Adolf off his feet and threw him against the wall. He struck the rock with an audible thud and a crack and lay still.

"Is he dead?" Arista asked softly.

Drake walked over to him, felt for a pulse. "No. But he's out for good, I think."

Arista went over to nudge Tom with a foot, for he was stirring. "This one's awake, though. But I can make sure he can't do anything to us." She slipped the pair of cuffs from her pocket and slid them over the dragonslayer's wrists. "Serenity!"

The Null Magic cuffs immediately shrank to fit the big man's wrists and began to glow, nullifying his magic. Tom opened his eyes and stared wildly up at her. "M-my magic! It's** gone**!" he cried. "Give it back!"

"Not in this life, mister," Drake told him coldly. Then he cast the Leglock jinx on him, making sure he couldn't pursue them.

"Look, Drake! Whatever spell that Adolf creep cast on the exit has faded," Arista said excitedly, pointing to the sealed exit, which had now reopened.

Just then the mountain rumbled ominously and the floor shook.

"What's that? A bloody earthquake?" Drake yelled.

"Who knows? But it doesn't sound good. Let's get out of here!" Arista said, and turned to leave.

"Wait! You can't leave me like this!" shouted Tom. "What if the ceiling collapses?"

"Not my problem," Drake called. "Why don't you pray to your Dragonmaster for help, huh? Maybe he'll answer you." Then he too turned away, sprinting for all he was worth down the corridor after Arista. Behind him the mountain groaned again and trembled.

* * * * * *  
Professor Snape and Cheyenne followed Thatcher's directions and soon found themselves in a huge cavern that had been converted into a combination dining hall and lounge, complete with a large table, seven chairs, a couch, a recliner and several plush carpets and floating Lumos globes. On a low table were a stack of magazines and a few books, and in the middle of the long table was a pitcher and a few cups, as well as a plate of fruit.

A tall woman with hair the color of old blood and nails painted a bright orange sat in the recliner, reading a magazine. She wore skin tight leather pants and a tank top that left little to the imagination, as well as knee high wyvern scale boots. She would have been pretty, save for the red tattoos that meandered over her arms and face, all of them were of wyverns.

"That's Lizzie Borgia," Cheyenne hissed in Snape's ear. "Crouch's lieutenant. Calls herself Mistress of Poisons."

Though their approach had been nearly soundless, some sixth sense warned the magician of approaching danger, and she glanced up from her magazine. Her eyes, which were an ordinary green, widened in shock. "What the _hell_?"

"Hello, Lizzie. Long time no see." Cheyenne purred, palming a shuriken.

"_You_!" The magician was on her feet in a flash, her hands working. A stream of corrosive green acid leaped from her fingers at Cheyenne.

Cheyenne countered the viscous stream with another gesture, and the acid vanished. "Pretty good, Borgia, but not enough. You're lacking, as usual." She flung her throwing star at the other woman.

It bounced off Borgia's hastily erected Excelsior charm. But Cheyenne had been expecting that, and followed it up with a quick Paralysis spell.

Borgia blocked that too, sneering contemptuously. Then she drew a small stiletto from her belt and flung it at Cheyenne. "Catch, Hunter!"

Cheyenne muttered a quick Shield charm, and the stiletto was turned aside. "Where's your Master, Borgia? I've got somebody here who's dying to meet him. Why don't you call him for me?"

"That won't be necessary, Cheyenne Merrick. For the Dragonmaster is _here_!" announced a cold voice, and a tall sandy-haired man in a sweeping red cloak and black robes Apparated into view. "Did you enjoy my hospitality so much that you decided to extend your stay, my dear?" He gave her a slow smile that never reached his eyes. "We'll have to give you different accommodations this time around. More permanent ones, I think." He drew his wand. "_Inferio_!"

A fireball shot from his wand at the little Dark Hunter.

Cheyenne clapped her hands and it was banished, but her face was pale with the effort it had cost her.

"Tsk! Tsk! Mr. Crouch, I thought you'd have learned how to treat a lady by now," Snape said, his voice cold as winter. He stepped from the shadows, his wand leveled at the former apprentice. Beside him, Scout snarled furiously.

Crouch whirled. "Who? Why, if it isn't my old Potions Master, Severus Snape! How nice of you to join my little reunion, Professor. Did the Dark Lord send you?"

"No, Crouch. The Dragon Council did."

The Dragonmaster looked puzzled. "But . . .I don't understand. You're a Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy said so."

"Lucius is very much mistaken," Snape sneered. "I was _never_ one of you, Gerald Crouch. That was a ruse. My true allegiance is to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix."

"You're a bloody _spy_!" Crouch spat, turning beet red. "You've betrayed the Dark Lord, Snape!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Crouch. Only you don't seem to be paying attention, as usual," he sighed, giving the other man a withering glare. "One would have thought you'd outgrown that tendency, boy. But I guess some things never change, do they? You're still a pathetic excuse for a student, Crouch."

"That's what you think, you ruddy traitor! I'll show_ you_ who's the master now, Severus Snape!"

"Oh, by all means, boy, show me!" Severus laughed.

Gerald looked as if he was going to have apoplexy. Then he opened his mouth and spat a stream of dragonfire at the professor.

Snape did not even bother to step back. He simply put out a hand. The stream of bluish-gold fire struck his open hand. But instead of burning the Potions Master to a crisp, the fire went out, since Snape was protected by the Fireproof Potion.

The Dragonmaster gaped at his teacher. "Always with a trick up your sleeve, eh, Snape!" he growled. "Try this one, Professor! **Crucio**!"

But Snape was prepared for that too, and circled his wand counterclockwise, deflecting the Torture Curse with Whirlwind Deflection. The Cruciatus curse bounced off and slammed into the wall, fizzling out.

"Poorly cast, Mr. Crouch!" Severus taunted, a smirk on his face. "If you were still in Slytherin, I'd give you detention for that. However, since you've grown beyond that, I think another kind of lesson is in order. One that you won't forget, you sadistic beast!" He snapped his wand forward, his eyes blazing. "**Tempestari**!"

A sheet of purple and green lightning shot out of his ebony wand and slammed into the Dragonmaster.

It threw the gloating Crouch backwards about five feet, though most of the force of the bolt was absorbed by his Excelsior shield. Still, his black robes and cloak were smoking, and the smell of burnt cloth and flesh hung in the air.

The professor advanced on his former student, his eyes hard and unforgiving.

Meanwhile, Lizzie Borgia was still battling Cheyenne, who had managed to get in quite a few solid roundhouse kicks and punches of her own. The tall magician was now bleeding from her nose and she was limping slightly from a snap kick to her left knee. In her hand she held yet another knife, this one coated with a viscous purple venom.

"Wyvern venom, Merrick," she smirked. "One touch and you're a dead woman. Not that you aren't already. You were dead the minute you set foot back here, Hunter. As dead as your old man down there on that slab."

"Don't you _dare _speak of my father like that, you harpy from hell! You aren't fit to breathe the same air as him, you murdering wicked hag!" She gestured sharply, and five-foot thick kudzu vines appeared and wound themselves about the blood-haired magician.

Borgia gasped and struggled, but she was held fast in the kudzu's grip, unable to use her hands to cast or her knife to slash her way free. Helpless, she glared at her opponent frostily. "Clever, Merrick. But kill me, Cheyenne, and you'll become what I am. A stone cold killer. What would your precious father say then?"

Cheyenne walked up to the other woman and punched her hard in the jaw. "He'd tell me that deadly force is only permitted if the suspect resists arrest, Borgia. Which you have. Sayonara, Lizzie. Give my regards to Lucifer, Poison Mistress!" Then she gestured, and the kudzu vines tightened, their spines emerging, which were tipped with a deadly sleep sap. They impaled Lizzie Borgia and within moments the necromancer was dead, poisoned as she had poisoned so many others in her career.

Gerald Crouch chanted the Stasis Spell, hoping to catch his former teacher off guard with the little used curse.

But the spell was absorbed by Snape's Anti-Stasis potion, and all the other wizard felt was a slight tingle as the spell was repelled. "Still making the same mistakes over and over, Crouch. Thinking I'm an easy mark. That was your first mistake. But not your worst one. Your worst one was kidnapping my daughter."

Crouch's eyes widened. Then he smiled slowly, a smile of pure gloating evil. "Oh, dear. Was that _your _daughter, Snape? I had no idea. But my Seer told me that two children and a magehound were lurking in the vicinity, much too close for comfort. It was the perfect opportunity to get some more sacrifices. Blood magic is so demanding that way." He sighed. "Then that broom I hexed before, it must have belonged to one of you, right? How did you like my little Hellride spell, Professor? Personally, I think it's to _die_ for!" He began to laugh loudly.

"Yes, I recognized your signature on that hex, Crouch. I remember when you cast it during the Quidditch match on Arnie Marlowe's broom and nearly killed him. Only I couldn't prove it was you, and so I had to let it go. But not anymore. Your hex failed this time too, and my student lives. You're a sick, twisted monster, Crouch. You always were, even when you were a child, you enjoyed torturing animals, like my dog that night in Knockturn Alley. I stopped you then and threatened to send you to Azkaban, remember? This time, though, I'll send you somewhere more permanent, like hell." He bared his teeth in a feral snarl. "Where** is** she, Crouch? Tell me, or else!"

"Or else what? You'll chain me in your dungeon? Take fifty points from Slytherin? Give me detention?" Crouch laughed wildly. "You don't frighten me any more with your empty threats, Professor. I've tasted the true power of immortality! You're no match for me, old man! I have more power than you ever dreamed. All the magic of the bronze dragons is mine to command."

"Stolen power, Crouch, and therefore not really yours. You never were much of a wizard, always lacking in true magic. That's why you never succeeded in school or anywhere else. Because you were always a sniveling weak coward, Crouch!" Snape cried, locking gazes with the other man. "_Legilimens_!" he snarled, entering the other's mind. "Where is she, Crouch? Show me or else I'll rip it from your mind!"

The Dragonmaster cried out, for Severus's touch on his mind was like a searing brand. "In the cell . . .below . . .she's unharmed . . .but not for long . . .I planned to use her for my last sacrifice, and the boy too. . ."

Severus howled in fury. Then he broke the contact.

Crouch smirked. Then he shouted, "But I don't need her when I have you, Potions Master! **Avada**--!"

He never finished his sentence, for Severus thought at the same time, "**Sectumsempra**!"

And suddenly Gerald Crouch was cut and bleeding from huge sword slashes, in too much pain to finish his Killing Curse. Blood gushed from multiple wounds, and the Dragonmaster fell back, his hands trying futilely to stem the flow of blood.

Severus loomed over him, glaring down at him with unwavering hatred. "That's what you get for daring to harm my daughter, Crouch. Think of it as a final lesson from me."

"No . . .I can't die . . .I am immortal . . ." whimpered the Dragonmaster. "**Draco infinitari . . .Draco infinitari!" **  
Suddenly the whole mountain rumbled, as if in response to the dragonslayer's command.

"What have you _done_, you lunatic?" Cheyenne shouted, nearly knocked off her feet by the sudden tremors.

"What I promised!" Crouch gurgled, grinning delightedly. "I have bound myself to . . .the volcano!" His eyes began to glow a lurid red. The cuts from Severus's spell began to heal as he drew more power from the volcano.

"You stupid imbecile! You've killed us all!" Cheyenne screamed.

"I know! Isn't it wonderful?"

She grabbed the Dragonmaster by the front of his robes. "Cancel the spell, damn you! Before it's too late."

Crouch's eyes glittered with madness. "No."

"_Stupefy_!" Severus shouted, reasoning that if the wizard were stunned, the spell might fail.

A red beam struck the leering Crouch in the eye and he slumped forward. But the tremors continued. The table toppled over and began to slide across the floor, nearly crushing them.

"Severus! We have to get the hell out of here! NOW!"

"Not without my daughter, Cheyenne!" he shouted back. He shoved the comatose Dragonmaster at her. "Take him! Get out of here and wake him up. See if there's any way you can make him stop whatever he's done. I'll join you as soon as I get Arista and Lockwood. Go!"

"You'll never make it out in time, Snape! This whole mountain's gonna come down around your head in about ten minutes!"

"Then you'd better leave while you can, Merrick! _Go_!" Snape shoved her towards the way they had come.

She swore softly and grabbed the limp form of Gerald Crouch, then Apparated away.

Severus lowered his head, picturing the cell and the tunnel in his mind just as Crouch had showed him. "Hang on, Arista! I'm coming," he cried.

_Dad! Don't! I'm outside! Dad, I'm okay! I'm outside the mountain!_

He froze. "Arista?"

_Yes! Come on, get out of there before it's too late! _

Her emotional presence was unmistakable. He felt his knees go weak with relief. Scout pressed against his legs, whimpering in terror. Severus grabbed the dog's collar, concentrated once more, this time picturing the clearing before the entrance, and Apparated.

Seconds later, the entire ceiling of the cavern tumbled down, burying the remains of Lizzie Borgia and the remaining dragonslayers still inside in a rocky tomb.

**A/N: I know that was a long chapter, but I like to have all my battles in one place, since that's how it happened at the time. Which one did you like best? And don't worry, Crouch will pay! **


	20. Dragon Vengeance

**Dragon Vengeance**

Professor Snape Apparated right in front of the entrance to the dragonslayers' lair, escaping death by a fraction of a second. No sooner had he arrived with Scout, than the big dog half dragged him away from the shuddering volcano, which seemed to be on the verge of a major eruption.

Fireflash and Sunstrike hovered overhead, their bronze scales glowing faintly in the reddish aura coming from St. Helen's crater.

Some three feet away was Cheyenne, shaking the Dragonmaster frantically. "Wake up, damn you! Wake up, you bloody maniac!" She delivered several openhanded slaps to his face to no avail.

"Dad!"

He looked up to see Arista and Drake coming down the left side of the mountain, clinging to each other for support as the mountain trembled yet again. Both of them seemed to be unhurt.

"Arista! Are you two okay?" he yelled, starting to run forward. A vicious tremor knocked him to his knees.

"Fine, Dad! Except for the fact that the volcano's gonna blow any minute," she answered, and then she and Drake half-ran, half-slid down the rest of the slope to the ground.

"It's no use, Snape!" Cheyenne groaned exasperatedly. "I can't rouse him for anything." She glared impotently down at the stunned Dragonmaster and spat a few choice swear words. "By the time he wakes up it'll be too late for us to stop it anyway."

"It always was too late, Cheyenne," Fireflash called. "His little summoning spell triggered a chain reaction in the volcano's core and now she's gonna erupt whether or not he cancels the spell. The best we can do is get away while we still can."

"Not quite, Flash," Sunstrike said, baring her fangs at the Dragonmaster. "There's one way we can mitigate what he's done. By a reverse sacrifice. It won't stop it completely, but it'll lessen the force of the eruption."

Slowly, Fireflash nodded. "Right. Let's do it then." He swooped down and snatched up Gerald Crouch in his claws. "I, Fireflash, named Avenger, do call dragon vengeance down upon you, Gerald Crouch!" he boomed. "For the murder of Aventurine, Amber, Brightfang, Mirrordusk, and Starsong, I declare you guilty." He rose into the air. "For which the penalty is death, sentence to be carried out immediately."

He shot towards the volcano with a speed that was almost impossible to follow. St. Helen's was already shooting gouts of lava into the night sky. Fireflash avoided the fiery spurts adroitly, flying between them to hover directly over the spewing crater.

The bronze dragon opened his claws.

Gerald Crouch dropped from them, falling directly into the volcano, one last sacrifice to counter the dark magic he had worked in his failed attempt to gain immortality.

He vanished beneath the lava in seconds and Fireflash felt the aura of evil die with him. St. Helen's rumbled warningly and the bronze spun in the air and flew back to where his friends waited. He had completed his task as Avenger and seen to death of the one who had murdered his cousin Aventurine. The threat of the dragonslayers was ended forever.

By then, Cheyenne had mounted Sunstrike and so had Drake, and the bronze female had launched herself skyward in one magnificent leap. "Hurry, Flash! She's going to blow any second!"

Fireflash blurred into action, diving down from the heavens in a fiery streak. There was no time to conjure the dragonsaddle, so he simply snatched the Potions Master, his daughter, and their dog up in his talons, cupping them gently in his forefeet. Then he soared up and away, his wings carrying him beyond the explosion of lava that surged up from St. Helen's throat a moment later.

When Arista glanced back a minute later, safe in Fireflash's grasp, she saw rivers of lava begin to flow down the sides of the volcano, obliterating everything in their path.

* * * * * *

The local news later reported that the eruption of Mt. St. Helen's was an unprecedented event, though several eyewitnesses claimed they had seen strange shapes and lights in the sky just before the eruption. One woman even claimed to have seen something with wings like a dragon flying over the crater just before it exploded. No one paid her much attention, everyone was too focused on trying to contain the devastation caused by the sudden eruption. Several hundred acres of forest caught fire from the ash and burning rock and the rangers and the National Guard had their hands full trying to put them out before they spread too far to be contained.

Sunstrike said the Council would probably send someone back there to help contain the damage as best as they could, for the forest was also home to many dragons. But right then the two dragons had their talons full just getting themselves and their human friends away before the coating of ash and dust made it impossible for them to breathe.

There had been no time to breathe a rarified air spell upon their friends, so the dragons could not fly above the clouds the way they usually did. But they flew as fast as they dared, which was about one hundred miles an hour, all they could do without rendering their passengers unconscious.

It took them about forty minutes to get beyond the cloud of poisonous gas and soot and fiery rocks, but at last they deemed it safe to land on one of the hidden mountain ledges they sometimes used and rest for a bit.

As soon as Fireflash had touched down on the ledge and opened his talons, Severus rushed forward and grabbed Arista, hugging her so hard she almost couldn't breathe. She could feel him trembling with equal parts of relief, joy, and anger.

They clung together for a long time, until Severus's temper got the better of him and he stepped back, setting his hands on his daughter's shoulders and shaking her sharply.

"Arista Eileen Snape! If you ever **ever** scare me like that again, I'll—" he began.

"Ground me for life? Strangle me?" she supplied, giving him her best I'm-really-sorry look.

"Both. Why the blazes did you run off without telling me where you were going?" he demanded. "You could have _died_ back there, young lady! If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times—**I don't want a dead hero for a daughter**."

"I know, sir. And I'm sorry I broke my promise to you, but I had to save Scout," she began.

He rolled his eyes. "You _always_ have to save somebody. I just wish that for once you would stop and think before rushing in where angels fear to tread," he sighed.

"Does this mean you'll forgive me?" she asked, looking at him pleadingly.

He glowered at her. "Yes. But—you're still in trouble, young lady. I've a good mind to ground you for the rest of the summer."

"Come on, give her a break, Sev," Fireflash interjected. "You're both safe and sound, right? All's well that ends well."

Snape shot the bronze a nasty look. "Stay out of this, Flash. She's _my_ daughter, not yours, and I'll decide how to punish her, not you." He turned back to Arista. "You're grounded for a month, young lady. That means no spellophone, no broom, and no friends sleep over. And you're to do all your chores without magic. Maybe next time you'll think twice before running off in the middle of the night without telling me. I nearly went out of my mind when I found you two gone, and then to find out that you were kidnapped by Gerald Crouch—of all people!"

"I'm sorry, Dad. I promise I won't ever do that again."

"You'd better not. Otherwise I really _will_ strangle you," he growled. Then he reached out and hugged her to him. "Arista, _when_ will you stop giving me heart failure?"

"Umm . . .probably never," she said honestly, hugging him back. "I'm an Amarotti, Dad. It runs in the family."

He groaned. "You're right, damn it." Then he added, "Though I can always hope for a miracle." He kissed the top of her head and let her go. Then he shot a glare at Drake, who looked as though he was trying to hide behind Sunstrike's foreleg. "As for you, Lockwood, perhaps I ought to give you a month's worth of detention to remind you to inform me _before_ you go haring off after my daughter on a wild goose chase?"

"Yes, sir. I apologize, sir."

The professor sighed. "Lucky for you we're not yet into the new term, so I can't really enforce that promise. _Yet_. But give me one excuse, Lockwood, and you'll serve it, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He shook his head, muttering, "I don't know which of you is worse, Arista for instigating these wild escapades, or you for going along with her, Lockwood. Both of you are magnets for trouble, God help you." Then he looked up and caught Cheyenne's knowing grin. "What are _you _smirking at, Miss Merrick?" he demanded tartly. "I suppose you're going to tell me that I ought to give them a break too, am I right?"

"Actually, no. Only that, well, you sounded a lot like my father, Severus. He would have said the exact same thing to me when I was their age. In fact, he _did_ say the same exact thing to me, now that I remember." She smiled sadly. "You two would have had a lot in common, Professor."

"Now _that_ I can believe, Merrick," he said with a sigh.

Cheyenne's words reminded Arista of something. "Uh, I retrieved this from the dragonslayers while we escaping, Miss Merrick," she came forward and held out the medallion to the young Hunter.

"Call me Cheyenne, please. What have you got there, my cuffs?" Then she saw what Arista held and went pale. Gently, she took the gold disk from the younger girl, gazing at it reverently. "My father's medallion. The Advocate's Amulet. It can only be worn by his successor, you know. Which I'm not. But thank you anyway." She remained staring down at the medallion for long minutes, her eyes blurring with unshed tears.

"Uh, Cheyenne? I think I've got your Null Magic cuffs," Drake said quietly, walking up to hand her the silvery manacles.

She took them, blinking hard. "Thank you." She examined them quickly, then said, "But these were my dad's, not mine. Still, I can use them, since I know the command word." She tucked them and the medallion inside the small leather pouch that had once contained her shuriken. "Well, if we're all done with parental lectures and such, I'd suggest we go back to the Council and tell them our mission is completed. What do you say?"

All of them agreed, and this time, they rode upon the dragons properly, with dragonsaddles, mist breath, and dog crates. They soon fell asleep, however, allowing the dragons to use a portal to return to the secret glade where the Council waited, only waking when Fireflash and Sunstrike glided down to a perfect three-point landing.

The Council declared their mission a success and thanked all of them profoundly. Sardonyx named all of them Dragonfriends, a singular honor that few wizards could ever claim, and of those who had borne that honor before them, none were now alive.

"In recognition of your service to us, we would like to award you these small tokens of our regard," Sardonyx intoned. He spoke a word in dragonspeech and three shimmering dragonscale pendants appeared in his talon. He bowed before Arista. "For you, Healer Snape, we give a Pendant of Dragonspeech. With it you can converse with any dragon, bronze or otherwise. Also, you have our eternal gratitude, and should you ever need our aid, you have but to ask, and we shall answer. Simply hold the scale and speak my name and I shall hear you, wherever you are." He held out the pendant, which had the rune for language carved on one side and the rune for summoning on the obverse.

"Thank you, Lord Sardonyx," Arista said, taking the pendant and slipping it about her neck, where it joined her mother's locket and Fireflash's pendant.

Sardonyx smiled. "The honor is mine, Healer." Then he turned to Drake. "Drake Lockwood, we name you Dragonfriend as well. Please accept this Pendant of Dragonsight. With it you can see as a dragon sees, keenly and with magical discernment. We make you the same vow as we have Healer Snape. If ever you have need of us, you have but to call."

He handed Drake another pendant, this one etched with the runes for vision and summoning.

Drake took it humbly and bowed, thanking him.

"You are welcome, young apprentice." Then he addressed Severus. "As for you, Potions Master, we give you a Pendant of Protection. It will guarantee you immunity from dragonfire as well as most harmful magics. Take it and with it our pledge of aid, which we give only to those we deem worthy."

"The honor is mine, Lord Sardonyx," Severus said gravely, bowing and then putting the pendant over his head.

"Last but by no means least, we have a request to make of you, Cheyenne Merrick, Advocate's apprentice. It is the wish of this Council that you continue with the work your father began, and take up the mantle of Dragon's Advocate. All of us here feel that you are most suited to represent us to the American Magical Association, with the best understanding of us as a people. What say you, Lady Merrick? Will you take up our medallion and be our Advocate?"

Cheyenne stared up at Sardonyx in disbelief. "But, my lord, I haven't served my full term as an apprentice. I'm not ready."

"You have served your full term and more, according to us," Sardonyx said gently. "No apprentice before you has ever been tested quite so harshly, child. We recognize your sacrifice and ask that you consider our request in that light. You are more than worthy."

"I . . ." for one moment she could not speak, and simply gazed up at the great dragon, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "I accept your request, Lord Sardonyx. May I serve you and yours with honor all the days of my life." She withdrew the Advocate's Amulet from her pouch and slipped it over her head. "I, Cheyenne Elizabeth Merrick, agree to be your Advocate."

At her words, the Amulet flared and golden sparkles danced over her, binding her to the oath she had made.

Sardonyx bowed to her then, wings spread, in a gesture of deepest respect. "Welcome, Advocate, to the Council of Dragons. May your voice be heard often and with respect. We shall hold the full ceremony later, when the moon is full, as is proper. I declare this Council adjourned. Go in peace, my friends, and know that our thanks and honor fly with you."

**A/N: All's well that ends well, right? And it's not over yet! There are a few loose ends to be tied up in the next chapter and a surprise epilogue too! and remember to review please! or else Sev will give you detention!**


	21. Summer's End

**Summer's End**

After they had taken leave of the Dragon Council, Severus asked Fireflash to take them to the Flynns, reasoning that they could use some time to rest and unwind after their ordeal, and the Flynns would understand that better than anyone. It was there, a day after their arrival, that the younger wizards told them about what had happened when they were prisoners of the dragonslayers. Severus listened in quiet astonishment as Arista spoke of the courageous Seer Magdalena who had helped them and later sacrificed herself to allow them to escape from the  
necromancers who had trapped them.

"I think she really wanted to die," Arista said sadly. "After she realized what she had  
done, what they had made her into with the Imperius curse, it was too much for her. She kept saying she should have been stronger, she hated what she had been forced to do with her Sight. I think in the end she sought her own death, because she didn't even attempt to block the curse Adolf threw at her." Her eyes filled with tears at the memory, tears that she resolutely refused to shed. "I don't want people to think she was a member of their Brotherhood. She was as much  
their prisoner as we were, not their partner. In the end she kept to her Hunter's Oath and we should remember her for it."

"We won't forget her, Arista," Jenna said, giving her a hug. "We Hunters honor our own and we'll see to it that her record shows that Magdalena Rosvita sacrificed herself in the line of duty, to protect innocent lives. That much, at least, is owed her."

"Anyone who gave her life to save my daughter is a hero in my opinion," Severus added. "Was she the one who let you out of the cell too?"

"No, that was Drake," Arista said. "He's quite a good escape artist. He slipped off his  
cuffs and picked the lock on the door."

"Really, Lockwood? That's quite an accomplishment."

"I studied Houdini, is all," Drake said modestly, blushing slightly. "I'm just glad it  
worked." He examined his wrists, which were still sore from working the cuffs over his hands.

"Drake, why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" Arista cried, glancing at his wrists.

"Because this is nothing for you to waste your power on," he replied.

"That's for me to decide, not you," she declared, then touched his wrist with a finger. A  
soft tongue of white fire wrapped about his arm and in an instant the welts were healed. She did the same to his other arm. "There! Next time don't play Spartan, Drake, and just tell me if you're hurt, okay?"

He sighed. "Okay, Healer Snape." Then he muttered under his breath, "What does she think, that I'm some wimp that can't handle a little pain? Good God!"

Colin and Severus looked amused at the boy's disgruntled expression. Then Colin said softly, "She's a woman, Drake, they love to fuss over men. It makes them feel good."

"And you men love to be fussed over, Colin, even if you'll never admit it," Jenna  
interjected. Then she rose from the couch to get something to drink from the kitchen.

Arista followed her, asking her if she recalled the conversation they'd had about chess the last time she visited. Jenna nodded, her eyes glinting mischievously.

"Will you show me some moves then?" the girl asked. For even though she was  
grounded, she knew her father would not forbid her to play chess with him, especially not with a three Galleon bet on the line.

"Sure, sweetie. It'd be my pleasure," Jenna chuckled. "Let's go into the dining room."

They stayed up until almost midnight diagramming moves, until Arista was too tired to  
keep her eyes open. But she went to bed satisfied that she could at least give Severus a good fight this time, and maybe, if she were extremely lucky, beat him at his own game.

The next morning, Professor Snape took Drake shopping for a new broom, as he had  
promised that morning in Gifford Pinchot. "You really don't have to do this, Professor," he protested. "Buy me a Nimbus, I mean. It was a gift to me from my uncle, he wants me to be some Quidditch star, I'd never spend that much on a broom myself."

"And how would you explain to your father where your Nimbus 2001 was?" Snape  
demanded.

"Uh . . .I'd think of something," Drake said hastily.

"Just let me replace your broom, Lockwood," Severus ordered irritably. "You nearly  
ended up dead because of my carelessness, I should have checked the brooms for hexes before we flew that day."

"It wasn't your fault they hexed my broom, sir!"

"Nevertheless, I was responsible for you, and you got hurt, so the least I can do is replace your blasted Nimbus. Now will you stop arguing with me and pick out a new one? Anyone else would be jumping for joy if I offered to buy_ them_ a new Nimbus 2001."

"I know that, sir. And I really appreciate you doing this, Professor." Drake said sincerely. "Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it, Lockwood," his teacher said. "Choose one."

Drake chose a Nimbus 2001 with sporty green racing stripes down its handle and let it go at that. Severus paid for the broom and the sales wizard threw in a free Nimbus care kit and a Quidditch player guide as a bonus.

Then they flew back to the Flynns for dinner and some playtime with baby Amelia, until Severus said it was time they returned to the Amarottis. "When do you have to pick up that puppy of yours, Drake?" he asked.

"Uh, next week, I think. I'd better send a letter to the breeder tomorrow, make sure he's got everything ready for us."

They bid the Flynns and baby Amelia goodbye and left within the hour, traveling down  
the forest path to where Fireflash waited. Within minutes they were airborne, en route to the Amarotti beach house.

Ari and Leo were happy to see them and asked dozens of questions about their camping trip in the Poconos. "It was very exciting," Drake said.

"We'll never forget it," Arista added.

"_That's_ for sure," Severus agreed feelingly.

"Was it_ that_ bad?" Leo asked, his mouth quirking in amusement.

"Uh, let's just say that I'm not in a hurry to repeat it," Severus said quickly. "We ran into  
some unexpected problems."

"Like wild animals," Drake added helpfully.

"And nasty hikers who wanted to steal our tent and all of our equipment," Arista  
embroidered hastily. "But Dad took care of them."

"I'll just bet he did," Ari laughed. "But at least you didn't have to worry about a volcano  
erupting right on top of you, like those tourists in Washington State. Did you hear, Mount St. Helen's blew her stack again? It was totally unexpected, there were no warning signs, and over a hundred acres of forest burned. Luckily, though, no one was killed. No person, I should say, because I'm sure several animals died."

"Wow! Really?" Drake exclaimed, looking totally shocked.

"I'm sure glad we weren't there, Dad," Arista said. "It would have been like the camping trip from hell."

"Did they say if the volcano stopped erupting, Ari?" Severus asked.

"I think it slowed down last night. But they still have all that ash and dust to deal with.  
I'm sure glad I don't live over there. I'd be run off my feet trying to help all those poor animals. I wonder if the AMA will send some of our people there, to help with the aftermath? I'm sure they could use a good Animal Healer and an earth mage or two."

"Now, don't go getting any ideas, Ari," Leo warned, eyeing his wife sternly.

"I wasn't, Leonardo," his wife said frostily. "I'm too old to be heading up any disaster  
relief program, I haven't got the stamina anymore to Heal for days on end the way I used to. Otherwise, I'd volunteer. But this is a job for the young Healers, let them get some experience in dealing with emergency situations and such."

"Speaking of animals, did you send that letter to the breeder yet, Drake?" Severus  
reminded him.

"Not yet. But I'll write it tonight," Drake assured him. "I just have to find the address.  
It's somewhere in my book bag."

"That's right, you're getting a magehound puppy," Ari said, smiling. "You should have  
a great time training her, Drake. It is a her, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Dad got the only female in the litter. I can't wait to see her."

"I'll bet she's adorable," Arista said.

"What puppy isn't?" Severus commented. "That's how they sucker you into buying one, because they're too cute to resist. Until you get it home and it wrecks your house. Then you wonder what ever possessed you into agreeing to get the little demon in the first place."

"I'm sure my puppy won't be like that, sir."

Severus shot him a look of utter disbelief. "We'll see what you say a month from now,  
Lockwood. After you catch her chewing on your Nimbus or burying your wand in the neighbor's garden. Puppies are like children. Trouble incarnate. Trust me, I lived with an overgrown puppy for fourteen years."

"But Maverick wasn't a magehound, Dad. Magehounds are different, they're smarter  
than your average dog."

"Which means they'll invent new ways to drive you crazy. Maverick wasn't dumb, not  
by a long shot. He was a clever scamp. I only had to show him a trick once and he never forgot it. He was just stubborn and I swear he deliberately disobeyed me on purpose, because he knew how much it annoyed me. Like someone else I could name," and he eyed his daughter meaningfully.

Arista rolled her eyes at him. "No fair, Dad. I never intend to get in trouble, it just  
happens. Like a natural disaster."

"Spare me the excuses, please. Like I said before, kids and puppies are born  
troublemakers. I'm sure Leo and Ari will agree with me."

"He's right, you know," Leo said. "If I wasn't yelling at the dog, I was yelling at one of  
the girls when they were growing up."

"That's true," Ari admitted.

Arista and Drake looked at each other. "Adults!" they said in tones of mutual resignation.

"What were you thinking of naming her, Drake?" Arista asked.

"Well, she's really my dad's dog, so he ought to pick her name. But if he wants  
suggestions, I've been thinking of calling her Liberty, since she's an American dog and all. Libby for short. What do you think?"

"I like that. Or how about Patriot? You could call her Patsy for short."

"That's not bad either. I'll have to see what Dad says, though. He might have something different in mind."

But as it turned out, Dr. Lockwood didn't have a clue what he was going to name the dog, and agreed to allow Drake to choose the puppy's name. He ended up calling her Liberty, Libby for short. And she was just as cute and as mischievous as Severus had predicted. Scout absolutely adored her, and would play with her for hours, letting her chew on his ears and his tail. He also taught her how to track and hunt like the best magehounds in America.

On the flight back to Britain, she slept with the big dog in his crate, and that way did not howl in terror or become too nervous at being separated from her mother and littermates. The only problem the Lockwoods had when they got home was separating her from Scout, who carried on almost as bad as Libby, whimpering and howling heartbrokenly. He moped about the house for days, until Arista asked if they could invite Drake and Libby over for a visit.

"A short one. You're still grounded, miss," her father said.

"Like I could forget," she sighed, for only that morning she had washed all the breakfast dishes by hand and cleaned the living room.

But Drake and the puppy came over to Spinner's End, and the two dogs spent a blissful four hours playing with each other until Drake went home to eat supper with his family. He promised to bring Libby back for regular play dates with Scout, since magehounds loved the company of other dogs, and Scout was a good influence on his harum scarum puppy.

Mel had stopped by two days after they had gotten back, and Arista had told her she was grounded for a month. Then she spent the next three and a half hours telling her everything that had happened over the summer and showing her pictures of all her relatives from New Jersey as well as some shots of baby Amelia and Severus at the christening.

"Aww! She's absolutely adorable! I can't believe your dad is actually holding her. It's  
hard to picture Professor Snape with a baby on his shoulder." Mel laughed. "But there's the proof, right there in living color. Amazing!"

"He did more than just hold her, Mel. Jenna told me he woke up one night because the baby was screaming and fed her a bottle and rocked her to sleep too."

"No **way**!"

"Swear to God, Mel. I didn't see it, because I was sleeping, but the next morning we  
found them on the couch in the den, sound asleep."

"I wish I could have seen that! Too bad you didn't get a picture of it."

"I know. But wait till you hear about Marietta, my three-year-old cousin," Arista said  
gleefully. She told Mel about the way her cousin followed Snape about like a puppy, threw tantrums over him, and even named her stuffed dog after him.

Mel was in stitches. "Sounds like she's got a bad case of Severitis."

"You can say that again!" Arista howled, and they both laughed so hard they nearly cried. "I can't wait till I tell Trish and Kit. They'll get a real hoot out of it. But you have to promise me you won't tell anybody else, okay? Otherwise he'll ground me for life."

Mel wriggled her eyebrows at her. "Mum's the word, girlfriend. Besides, who'd believe  
me?"

"Dumbledore would," Arista said knowingly. "Speaking of Trish, where is she? I'd have thought she'd be over as soon as you told her I was back."

Mel looked troubled at Arista's words. "Something's been odd with her lately. She won't return my calls or my letters. She's been off a lot with her mum, going to fashion conventions and stuff."

"You're kidding! Trish hates that kind of thing."

"I know, but every time I ask her to do something with me, she's always busy. Or she says she's busy. She's been avoiding me for nearly the entire time you've been gone, Arista. I don't get it. It's not like we had a fight or anything."

"Weird," Arista frowned. "Maybe I ought to talk to her. If I had a spellophone, that is."

"Here. You can use mine. She's got a ring of mine," Mel offered, holding out her purple spellophone.

But there was no answer when Arista called. "Maybe she's not wearing it or something."

"Why the blazes not? I'm one of her best friends, for crying out loud!" Mel said angrily.

"Something's not right here, Mel."

"I'll say! Getting ditched by my friend is definitely _not_ all right."

"Maybe it's not her, Mel. Maybe her mother won't let her use her rings or something."

"What, like I'm not good enough to associate with Glinda Greenbough's daughter?" Mel sneered. "I can't stand that stuck-up snob, thinks who the bloody hell she is, just because she used to be a model for Witch Weekly! Big fat deal! My family's just as good as hers, even if we don't hobnob with the rich and famous."

"Take it easy, Mel," Arista soothed, projecting a wave of calming serenity at her friend.  
"You're gonna give yourself a stroke if you keep yelling like that. Or bring my dad up here to see what all the screaming's about. And if he sees me with a spellophone, I'm dead meat."

"Sorry. I don't mean to go off like that, it's just she's been acting like I don't exist all  
summer and I just wish I knew why. We used to tell each other everything, we never kept secrets from each other. Just like you and I do."

"Have you tried going over to her house?"

"Yeah. But either she's not home or her house elf Tink says she's not receiving visitors. Not receiving visitors! Can you believe that? I'm not a damn visitor, I'm one of her best friends!"

"Something's not right there, Mel. I hope to God she's not sick or something."

"Sick? Like dying of some dreadful disease?" Mel stared at her in horror. "But then why wouldn't they have called you? You're a miracle Healer, by Merlin's Eyebrow!"

"Glinda's never really liked me, Mel. She only tolerates me because I'm Professor  
Snape's daughter," Arista admitted. "I don't think she has any respect for me as a reputable Healer."

"Bloody hell, you healed the Longbottoms!" Mel objected. "If that ain't respectable, I  
don't know what is."

"True, but I'm not an accredited Master yet. You know how much a title means to her.  
That's one of the reasons she's always on Trish's case to lose weight, 'cause she wants her to snare some rich young duke or earl or whatever from a pureblood family."

Mel made a disgusted noise. "How stupid! Like a title makes you some kind of paragon. All the kids with titles I ever knew think they're God's gift to the earth and I wouldn't give them the time of day. Neither would Trish. Or at least she used to be that way. I really really hope she's okay."

"Me too. Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Guess so," Mel said glumly. Then she bounced to her feet. "Why don't we go down and see what your dad's making for lunch? I'm starving, and something smells heavenly." She sniffed appreciatively.

"I think it's his rosemary fries. He's been trying out new recipes ever since we got back home."

"I'll be happy to taste test them," Mel sighed, then ran downstairs and into the kitchen.

* * * * * *  
Later on that night, Arista challenged Professor Snape to a rematch of their wizard chess game at the beginning of the summer.

Severus smirked. "Think you can take me then? Are we playing for money or just for  
fun?"

"For the three Galleons. And remember, you promised to double it if I win."

"What makes you so sure you can beat me, miss? Last time I thrashed you soundly, my girl."

Arista shrugged. "We'll see, won't we, Dad?" she said mysteriously.

"The only thing you'll be seeing is those Galleons disappearing into my pocket," Severus said loftily. "White or black?"

"White." Arista seated herself opposite him and the white pieces stood to attention.

"You move first."

She nodded, biting her lower lip in concentration. Then she ordered her pawn ahead one square, as usual. She would play the way she normally did at first, lull him into thinking this was going to be an easy match, as per Jenna's instructions. Then, when he was sure he had her trapped, she would turn the tables on him. At least she would if she could recall all of Jenna's advice and moves.

The game went on for three hours, with Severus slowly but steadily eating away at her  
pieces. But thus far he had not captured any of her major ones, and she was fending him off better than she had ever done before.

"You've improved," he said, then moved his castle two spaces to the right.

"I've been paying attention when you play," she answered, countering him with her  
bishop.

"It shows," was all he said, his eyes narrowing as he considered his next move.

Arista studied the board, then moved her knight forward two places, taking out his bishop. Which in turn left him open to a counter maneuver Jenna had labeled the Lightning War. Done properly, it could dispose of all of his major defenders and leave his queen and king vulnerable.

He moved to block her queen, probably assuming she wouldn't know how to take  
advantage of the opening she'd made.

It was then that Arista sprang into action, doing exactly as Jenna had taught her. Within moments Severus found himself bereft of his knights, castle, and his queen.

He gaped at her.

She grinned triumphantly. "Got you, Dad. Checkmate."

Her knight swept his sword through Snape's king, cutting it in half.

"Who taught you that move?"

"Jenna, who else?"

"I should have known you two were up to something." He scowled. "I don't believe this. Beaten by an amateur."

"A very talented amateur," Arista crowed. She held out her hand. "Pay up, Professor."

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He slowly counted out six Galleons and pushed them  
over to her. "Satisfied now?"

She counted the coins, savoring the feel of victory. "Didn't I tell you I'd beat you by the  
end of the summer, Dad? Maybe next time you'll believe me, huh?"

"Quit gloating, you impudent brat. One win doesn't make you a master."

"I know that. I probably won't ever be as good as you or Jenna. But I don't care. I beat  
you once and that's all that matters." Then she smiled sweetly at him.

"Incorrigible brat!" he mock-growled. Then he grinned back at her. "Guess you're more like me than you know, Arista mine. Want to play again? Double or nothing?"

She shook her head. "No way. I know when to quit while I'm ahead."

He made a face at her. "Now I'm sorry I didn't raise any dumb daughters."

"I'm not," she said, giving him a trademark Snape smirk.

**A/N: No, this is not the end yet, I have one last surprise for you**


	22. EpilogueThe Adoption

**Epilogue--The Adoption**

The next morning, Severus went out to take Scout for a walk, and when he returned he saw Tricia Greenbough sitting on his front porch. He noted immediately that there was something different about the little blond, and not just the fact that she seemed to have lost about twenty-five pounds. There was an odd paleness to her features, as if she had spent most of the summer indoors, her normally straight hair had been teased into an upswept look that Severus thought made her look much too old for her fifteen years. Even her clothes, which were expensive, for Glinda Greenbough did not allow her daughter to wear anything save the best, flattered her rather plump but curvy figure a bit too much for his taste. Strangest of all, despite her new look, she did not carry herself with the kind of self-confidence such changes should have inspired.

"Hello, Professor," she said, giving him a wan smile, one that did not reach her eyes, which looked unutterably weary and sad.

"Hello, Trish," he greeted her, unsnapping Scout's lead and letting the big dog run ahead to lick the girl's hand. "How was your summer?"

"Fine, thanks," she answered distantly. That too was unlike her, normally she chattered nonstop, and she never ignored Scout the way she was doing now, not even giving the dog a hug or letting him lick her on the cheek. "Is Arista at home?"

"Well, she ought to be, since I left her sleeping," he answered, peering at the girl sharply. _Something's not right here_, he thought uneasily. Trish was easily the most demonstrative of all of Arista's friends, always smiling and effervescent. The girl before him seemed brittle, as if she had all the joy sucked out of her. His teacher's instincts were screaming at him madly that something was very wrong. "Would you like to come in and wait while I see if she's awake? She ought to be up by now, she has a few chores to do for me this morning."

"No, that's all right. I'll just . . .come back later, I guess." Her shoulders slumped slightly as she made her way past him, her head bowed.

Scout whined in concern, gazing after the girl, his blue eyes puzzled.

_Maybe she had an argument with her mother or something_, he thought, and she wants to talk to Arista about it. Normally, he wouldn't have felt the need to involve himself in any teenage drama scenes, God knew he hated to deal with them at school, because they interfered with his lessons, but something made him halt just before he went inside. He turned about to look after the figure making her slow solitary way down his front walk and alarm bells went off in his head.

"Tricia? Is something the matter?"

She paused. Then she turned to face him. "No, nothing. Why?"

"You look . . .different, is all," he began awkwardly, cursing himself for not knowing how to talk to her. She had been his student for four years, yet he was always careful around the young women, lest some remark or action be misinterpreted by them. God knew the last thing he needed was for some teenage girl to develop a silly crush on him and accuse him of an impropriety. But Tricia Greenbough was not acting like a teenager with a crush, he reminded himself.

"I do, don't I? Why? Don't you like it?" her voice was shrill with indignation. Before he could answer, she continued with a bitter laugh. "My mother thinks it makes me look so sophisticated and wonderful. But I hate it. I **hate** it!" she cried, then to his utter horror she burst into tears and threw herself at him.

Or maybe it was at the door, only he was in the way, and he caught her reflexively. "Tricia, what on earth—?" he began, putting an arm about her, and helping her into the house. She was crying too hard to see straight.

"Here, why don't you sit down on the couch," he said softly, leading her to the tan sofa. _Arista, where are you? I don't deal well with this kind of emotional outburst._ Yet he found himself sitting down beside the distraught girl and patting her on the back. She was sobbing softly, hopelessly, overwhelmed by her inner grief, not caring in the slightest if she happened to be crying all over her teacher's shoulder. "Trish? Did something happen to your mother?" he queried, trying to figure out what had triggered this outburst. "Or is it your father?" he added, recalling that she still saw her dad, even though her parents were divorced.

She shook her head at that, hiccuping and sniffling. He conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and blew her nose, at last meeting his eyes. What he saw in them made him stiffen in alarm. For in them was depression and despair so deep and dark it frightened him. _No child should ever have that look on her face, _he thought frantically. _As if life is intolerable and all she wants is to leave it_. He wished desperately his daughter were awake, for as an empath she would know best how to deal with this, but he dared not go upstairs and wake her. Tricia was too close to the edge for him to leave her alone.

"Sorry, sir," she managed to say at last, regaining a bit of her composure. "I . . . didn't mean to do that. I just . . ." She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief.

"It's all right. You're not the first student to cry on my shoulder, Greenbough. Arista does it all the time," he said, making his tone light, conversational. "Would you like to tell me what's bothering you?" _Besides looking like a walking advertisement for teenage depression and suicide?_ The cynical part of his mind hissed. "Are your parents well?"

"They're fine. Wonderful, in fact. My dad's expecting another baby with his wife Sally. I don't really mind, he's been wanting another kid for a long time, that's one reason why he and my mum aren't together any more. Because she refused to have more than one child and he wanted a bunch of kids. She told him one was plenty and any more would ruin her figure for modeling." Her mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. "God forbid she should look less than perfect. Or that her daughter should. _She's_ the reason I hate my life, Professor. Because she wants me to become her, and I tried, I really did, all summer, but I just can't be what she needs. She wants a glamour queen, like Brittany damn Marsh, and that's just not _me_." She gestured down at herself. "I can't take it any more. Nothing I do is any good." More tears followed this statement, trickling softly down her pale cheeks.

"Have you tried talking to her?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Only every other day. But she doesn't _listen_ to me. She hears what she wants to hear, not what I'm saying, know what I mean?" He nodded, understanding perfectly. "I'm her daughter, I should be her shadow, liking what she likes, doing what she does. But I'm _not _her, Professor. I hate all those damn fashion shows, and all the artificial people at them, people who smile to your face and then laugh at you when your back's turned. They can't even hold a decent conversation, all they know is clothes and shoes and stupid make-up tips and the latest spell to make you look like some fantasy goddess. They're cold and shallow and selfish and those are the kind of people my mother wants me to associate with. I hate them and I hate their world, it's all illusion anyway, but whenever I try to tell her that, she just laughs and says that someday I'll appreciate what she's offering me, the opportunity she never had, to rub shoulders with Allison Brant Wickerson and Sandra Glitterbaum. Those are the top models for _Witch Weekly_ and _Sophisticated Sorceress_, in case you were wondering. They have more money than God and they told her that I had some potential, if I was willing to work with them to better myself. What the blazes is wrong with me the way I am now? I asked her. Know what she said? You look like every other teenage witch your age, ordinary as skimmed milk, and boring as watching grass grow. You remind me of Elspeth the dairy maid. There's no spark, no shine to you, nothing that makes people stop and say there goes Glinda's daughter, isn't she beautiful? She said that to my face, Professor! My own mother told me that I was—was _ugly _and not fit to be seen in her company."

"She's wrong. Completely and utterly wrong," he told her firmly. "There is nothing wrong with you at all, Tricia Greenbough." He was appalled. _The poor girl's falling apart here, and all her mother worries about is what people will SAY_?

"Try telling **her** that!" Trish flared. "At first, I thought, maybe if I do what she wants, things will work out. So I went along with her, and in the beginning I even thought it was fun, going to spas and fancy restaurants, and parties, meeting her so-called friends. Until I learned the way they really were, and then I couldn't stand being in the same room with them. It was like hanging out with ten thousand Brittany Marshes, only they were all grown-up and polished. And my mum wanted me to be like them. She wouldn't let me talk to Mel all summer, she even took away my spellophone and all of my rings, so I couldn't call anyone. She said she didn't want me to be distracted while I was transforming myself. My best friend was nothing more than a _distraction_. I only managed to sneak out this morning because she was busy getting a facial with Tink." She looked up at him pleadingly. "I want to be just plain Trish again, Professor. I want to be a normal girl, and go shopping with Mel, and eat chocolate cake and hamburgers if I feel like it, or practice spells with Arista, listen to Kit's awful jokes and pretend they're funny, or help Drake with all his animals at the clinic. I'd even—I'd even take one of your killer Potions finals rather than go to another fashion convention," she said with a lopsided smile. "What should I do, sir? I don't know if I can take living there anymore. Sometimes I wish I were dead. Then maybe she'd appreciate me for once."

"No, you don't," he said quickly. "That's the very last thing you want. If you die, she wins. You let her control you then, give her the opportunity to say to all her society friends, look at my poor daughter, she just couldn't take the stress of being perfect. She had no spine," he said cruelly, hoping to snap her out of her depression with his words.

"Like hell I don't! You're right, sir, and I'll be damned if I'll give her the satisfaction," she declared fiercely. Then she sighed and the lost air returned to her. "But what can I do?"

"For now, you can go into the kitchen and have a cup of tea. I'm going to wake up Arista and you can talk to her while I make breakfast. It's never wise to make decisions on an empty stomach. Or so says my mother-in-law." He patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. "Come on, Miss Greenbough. Tea will help you put things into perspective."

She smiled sadly at him. "Only if it's magic tea."

"What other kind would I serve? Now enough dawdling, young lady," he ordered with just a touch of his old briskness. He rose to his feet, and gestured for her to precede him into the kitchen.

She obeyed, sitting at the table with Comfrey in her lap. The lavender gray cat was purring up a storm, using her own brand of magic to soothe and calm the girl's shattered nerves. Trish was stroking her fur over and over, delighting in the silky softness and the sweet aroma of lavender that clung to it.

_Good. I'll let Comfrey work on her for a bit, she can soothe a raging manticore, so one depressed teenage girl shouldn't be too much for her to handle for five minutes_. He busied himself making the promised tea, a flavorful blend of orange, chamomile, and lavender with a dash of the Draught of Peace in it to combat the feelings of anxiety and depression and hopelessness that were plaguing her. It wasn't a cure-all, but it was the best he could do on short notice.

He left her sipping her tea and petting the cat while he went upstairs and knocked on Arista's door. "Arista, time to get up. Trish is downstairs and she really needs to see you."

Arista yawned, struggling up from the realm of dreams. "Huh? What'd you say, Dad? Did you say _Trish_ is here?"

"Yes. Now just get dressed and come downstairs. She says it's really important and she needs to talk to you."

"I'll be down in a sec," she called, and threw off her covers.

Five minutes later Arista was in the kitchen, dressed in her favorite jeans and mint green top, listening sympathetically to her friend's story, doing her best to alleviate the other girl's pain by sending her comforting feelings of warmth, calm, and love. Gradually, between Comfrey and Arista, Trish calmed down somewhat, and seemed less agitated and depressed.

While Arista worked her magic on her friend, Severus began making blueberry pancakes and bacon, since he knew that was a favorite of both girls.

Trish's eyes lit up when she saw the platter he set on the table. "Oh my God! Are those _real _pancakes? I haven't seen food like this in over a month, I think." She eagerly helped herself to three of them.

"Why? What were you eating at all those restaurants?" Arista queried, filling her own plate. She gave her father a thumbs-up sign when Trish wasn't looking.

Her friend made a face at her question. "Uh, wheat grass or some other kind of dried nutritious thing that tasted like regurgitated cardboard. Some places, their idea of a meal was a slice of wheat bread, a piece of melon and a handful of walnuts washed down with a glass of water. If you were lucky, you got a salad with dressing. All the models eat like that, they're terrified of gaining weight, so they practically starve themselves." She poured syrup on her pancakes and took a bite. "Mmm. I've died and gone to heaven, I think." Then she ate some bacon. "Nothing tastes as good as your blueberry pancakes, Professor. Those chefs in my mum's gourmet restaurants ought to come over here and take some lessons, learn what food is supposed to taste like."

"Well, I learned from the best," he told her, pleased.

"Who?"

"My mom," Arista answered. "Before he met her, he couldn't cook at all."

Trish stared at him. "You gotta be kidding! You really couldn't cook, sir?"

He shook his head. "Amelia taught me almost everything I know about cooking. The rest I learned by trial and error. But so far I don't think Arista has much to complain about, right?" he seated himself at the head of the small table and began eating as well.

"Who's complaining?" his daughter muttered, swallowing a mouthful of pancake. "The only other person I ever knew that cooks as good as you do is Nana. My grandmother is an incredible cook, Trish, she feeds you 24/7 and gets insulted if you don't eat what she puts in front of you. I'm lucky I didn't gain about fifty pounds while I was at her house. She could feed the whole US Army."

"Maybe I should move there," Trish said enviously. "My mother has Tink do all the cooking at our house."

"Have you thought about maybe living with your dad?" Arista suggested cautiously.

"Yeah, only his wife Sally might not be too keen on me moving in with them. Especially now, with a new baby on the way. I mean, it was no big deal when I stayed a weekend or two, but to actually live there . . .something tells me it would be a bad idea. I think she has the potential to turn into the wicked stepmother, and I'm not going from being Amateur Beauty Queen to Cinderella."

"Did you tell him what's been going on, though?"

"I tried. He didn't answer any of my letters. I guess he's been too busy or whatever," she said mournfully, sipping some more of her tea.

"That's no excuse," Severus said angrily._ Maybe **I **should write him_. _He might take me more seriously because I'm an adult and her teacher. Her situation is intolerable and something needs to be done about it. He's her father, he ought to take responsibility for his own daughter's problems and help her deal with them, _he thought suddenly.

"You can stay here tonight, if you'd like," he offered. _Where I can keep an eye on you, make sure you're not going to try and drink hemlock or something,_ he added mentally.

"Thanks, Professor. I really appreciate this," she said gratefully.

He smiled at her, then raised an eyebrow at Arista's look of utter disbelief. "Yes, I'm aware you're still grounded, Arista, and I said no friends could stay over, but in this case I'll make an exception." Then he added quickly, "But only this once, mind. Don't think I'm letting you off easy any other time, young lady."

"Thanks, Dad." Arista said sincerely.

Trish glanced at her friend curiously. "What did you do this time, Arista?"

"Something I shouldn't have."

"Obviously," her friend rolled her eyes.

"I'll tell you after I clean up here. It's a long story."

* * * * * *  
Later that afternoon, Severus composed a succinct letter to Trish's father, Louis, telling him about the incident that morning and stressing the fact that Tricia was wretchedly unhappy and depressed at home. He said she wanted to move in with her father and strongly suggested he speak with her and get all the details from her. He added that she was staying with him for the time being, as he thought it unwise to send her home given the circumstances.

He sent the letter off with Nightfall after asking Tricia for the address. What he got back in reply the next morning made his blood boil.

**Dear Professor Snape,  
I apologize if Tricia bothered you with her personal tempest in a teapot. You know how teenage girls are, since you teach them, they're over emotional and prone to exaggeration, every little thing is a big drama to them. **_You think I don't know that after 14 years of teaching? I can spot a drama queen in two minutes, and Trish isn't one of them, which you'd know if you spent any time with her. Didn't you even **read** what I wrote, you imbecile? She shows up at my door looking like the poster child for Suicides Anonymous and spends the next ten minutes crying hysterically in my arms and you think she's bloody **exaggerating**? Maybe you ought to get some help yourself, Mr. Greenbough, you're about as intuitive as a brick wall_.

He continued reading, incensed at the other man's blindness.

**I know the situation with her mother isn't ideal, unfortunately it's something I can't change now. My wife is expecting and she and Tricia don't get along well, so bringing her to live with me is simply out of the question. The last thing Sally needs right now is to be upset and being around Tricia seems to bring out the worst in her**.

_I don't believe this. She's your daughter, yet you're willing to leave her at the mercy of your ex-wife, a woman who's proven she's not fit to take care of her, and just go merrily on your way like nothing ever happened. You pompous ass, she's a child, not a damn broomstick! She asks you for help and you ignore her because now you have a new family and to hell with the old one, right? I ought to nominate you for Worst Parent of the Year. _

The letter ended with the following remarks.

**I've spoken with Glinda and she assured me everything was fine, that Tricia was just being a typical overdramatic teenager, wanting her own way in everything. You know how it is. I'd advise you not be concerned, Professor, she'll get over it in a week or two, but thank you for your consideration.**

Louis Greenbough

_Oh you do, do you?_ He read the letter again, his jaw clenched to keep from exploding in anger. The man's total disregard for his own child made him want to smash his fist down Greenbough's throat. _And just when, precisely, would you think is the right time to be concerned, after she's killed herself in a fit of depression? Some father you are! My dog could do a better job, _he thought scathingly.

_Now what, Snape?_ He thought, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly. He dared not send the girl back home, not with her precarious emotional state. He knew all too well what would happen if he did that. His only other option was to contact her mother and try and convince her of the error of her ways. He knew that he probably had as much chance of succeeding as a pig did of flying, but he had to at least notify her about her daughter's whereabouts. He didn't want to be accused of kidnapping, and he wouldn't put it past the crazy witch to do that if she thought it would benefit her cause.

So he wrote yet another letter, despite his conviction that it would do no good, and was a waste of good parchment and ink.

Meanwhile, Arista contacted Mel via Nightfall and invited her over to speak with Trish. Trish then apologized to her for not speaking to her. Mel, never one to hold a grudge, quickly forgave her, especially once she learned what Trish had been forced to endure and saw what a basket case her friend was as a result.

"What an utterly selfish and dreadful woman!" Mel exclaimed angrily. "She must be the worst damn mother in the world." Then she winced and said, "Sorry, Trish. I shouldn't bash your mum in front of you."

"Go right ahead, Seton. It's not as if I haven't said the same thing myself, and some worse too," Trish shrugged. "I'm past caring about her feelings, since she doesn't care at all about mine. She can go and—what's that expression you American Southerners use, Arista?—whistle up Dixie, I think."

"Actually, it's just whistle Dixie, not whistle it up," Arista corrected with a grin. "But you've got the context right."

"Who's Dixie?" Mel asked.

"Dixie's an old name for the Southern states of America. It's from a song, _Dixieland,_ which was popular way back during the Civil War, or as the Southerners call it, The War Between the States." Arista explained.

They were all sprawled on Arista's bed, drinking glasses of fruit juice and eating a bowl of popcorn drenched in butter, which Mel declared was the perfect food for a heart-to-heart girl chat.

"What's your dad say about all this?" Mel asked. "Is he like, on your side or your mum's?"

"He's on his own side. Professor Snape wrote him and told him how I fell apart and all and that he should let me live there and my dad said it wouldn't work out and he wouldn't inconvenience his precious wife and that I was just exaggerating everything and that was that. Nice, huh? Then again, I shouldn't be surprised, he's never been the type to be supportive about anything unless it has to do with him. He and my mum are alike that way. They care about themselves first and everybody else second."

"So what are you going to do?" Mel asked.

"Stay here, I guess, until Professor Snape kicks me out. I've got nowhere else to go except back with my mum, and I'd rather die than go back there."

"My dad would _never _kick you out," Arista reassured her. "He's furious at the way your parents have treated you, he says they shouldn't be in charge of a parakeet much less a child."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I think my mum treats Tink better than she does me, and she's the house elf. They're all jerks, my mum, my dad, and my stepmum. Sometimes I wonder what I did to get born into my family."

"Just bad luck, girlfriend," Mel said sympathetically, eating a handful of popcorn.

"Well, hopefully my luck's taken a turn for the better," Trish said, munching on a handful herself. She sighed in bliss. "Living here is _so _much better than my house."

"Even though we have no house elf to do chores around here?" Arista asked.

"Definitely. Tink used to spy on me for my mum, tell her if I was sneaking some real food after dinner or trying to send a letter to Mel. It was like living in prison. I'd rather do all the chores by hand rather than put up with her sneaking ways."

"I don't blame you. But you don't have to do chores without magic around here, Trish. I'm allowed to use cleaning spells unless I'm in trouble, then Dad makes me do them without magic, same as when he gives detention at school."

"Why _don't_ you have a house elf, Arista?" Mel asked curiously.

"Because my dad doesn't believe in contracting an entire race of creatures for life just to do housework. He says it makes us lazy. He also thinks giving a kid chores to do builds character and responsibility," Arista recited.

"Hmmm. I never thought about it like that before. But now that you mention it, I can see his point. I mean, we rely on house elves to do so much for us. Cook, clean, do the laundry. I don't think my mum could fix dinner without Berry helping her, and she can't iron to save her life. Last time she ironed my dad's robes for work, she burned a hole in them," Mel said with a chuckle.

"But everyone says the house elves like doing work for us. That even if we set them free, they'd continue to do chores for us, same as always," Trish remarked.

Arista looked skeptical. "Well, sure, that's what they're gonna say. You don't think they'd admit that it was wrong for us to bind them to eternal servitude, now do you? It reminds me of the way the Southern plantation owners used to talk about their slaves. They didn't need to be free, they were like part of the family, and they wouldn't know how to fend for themselves if they were set free, they needed to be told what to do 'cause they were too stupid to make decisions. It was all lies, of course, but people convinced themselves it was true to salve their own conscience. The plantation owners didn't want to hire workers to pick cotton or clean their houses or mind their children when they could get a slave to do it for nothing for as long as he lived. Sound familiar?" Both girls nodded. "That's why American wizards have no house elves either, or if they do, they pay them same as they would anybody else. The elves were set free after the Civil War same as the blacks and I for one think they're better off that way. As my father says, doing a few chores never killed anybody."

"Oh? Then why were you complaining about doing the laundry yesterday, Miss Freedom For All?" teased Trish.

"'Cause it's a big pain in the butt and it takes forever. And 'cause I'm lazy sometimes," Arista admitted. "And my dad knows it, that's why he gives me chores as a punishment most times."

"Can't pull anything over on him, can you?" Mel said.

"Not much," Arista sighed. "All those years as a teacher made him wise to just about every trick in the book. And he can spot a lie from a mile away and he's not even an empath. So don't ever try and lie to him, Trish, that'll make him mad as blazes. Just tell the truth, even if it gets you in trouble," she advised.

"I don't plan on getting in trouble, Arista," her friend said. "I came here to avoid trouble, remember?"

"I know, but I just thought you ought to know that. In case you forget and get in trouble like the rest of us normal kids."

Trish stuck out her tongue at Arista. "Stuff it, Snape. I'm no angel, but I won't screw up my chances with him by being a disrespectful snot either. He's the only thing standing between me and a foster home with Wizard Social Services."

"Then you're not gonna try and get your mum to see reason and quit turning you into a Brittany Wanna-Be?" Mel surmised.

Trish shook her head. "Been there and done that, Mel. The professor wrote her a letter too, same as he did my dad. Know what she told him? That I was an ungrateful child who didn't know how to appreciate everything she'd ever given me, and if I was going to behave that way, I could just stay away until I learned manners and sense and then she'd take me back. Otherwise I could go and live as a charity case if I wanted, she wasn't wasting any more of her time or her money on me."

Mel gasped. "My God! She _didn't_! That's—that's awful! What kind of mother says that about her own kid?"

"Mine," Trish stated bitterly. "You should have seen Professor Snape's expression after I let him read what she'd written. I thought he was going to spit nails. Either that or fly over there and curse her a good one. I wasn't all that upset, I'd been expecting something like that for awhile, because that's what Mum does when something doesn't please her—she gets rid of it. Then he looked at me and said the nicest thing. He said, _You're worth ten of her and her kind, Tricia Greenbough and don't ever let anybody tell you otherwise. You're better off without them, even though it might not seem like that right now. But someday when you're a successful woman, you can go back and show them all what you made of yourself and make them sorry they ever doubted you. _I damn near cried right there, because I never thought he'd ever say such a thing about me, a Hufflepuff whose own mother rejected her." She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue Mel handed her.

"Don't be silly, Trish," Arista reached out and hugged her. "I told you once before that he likes you, and it doesn't matter to him if you're in Hufflepuff or Slytherin either."

"But in school, it always seems like he favors his own House," Mel pointed out.

"Uh huh, because it would look odd if he didn't. He has to keep up appearances. But outside of school he can put away his professor's mask and just be himself. He's not really the strict and cold person he pretends to be, you both ought to know that by now. If he was, I'd be black and blue a dozen times over by now, the way I answer him back sometimes."

"Has he ever hit you?" Tricia asked softly.

"Never. Not for real. Once he gave me a swat 'cause I wouldn't get up the first day of school, but it didn't hurt. He doesn't discipline like that."

"I'm glad, because if he ever hit me I think I'd go to pieces," Trish said. "I got enough of that kind of thing when my mum was in a snit. She used to smack me across the face if I had an attitude with her, which meant any time I disagreed with her about my diet or clothes. That's one reason I'm glad I don't live with her anymore. She could be a real tyrant, especially when something didn't go right at her job."

"Nasty harpy!" Mel growled. "Somebody ought to slap her across the face a few times, see if that improves her any."

"It probably wouldn't, but it'd be something to see," Trish said. She glanced at her watch. "Oh, good, it's after four. She won't be home till eight tonight, it's her late night. So we can go over the house and take my stuff back here. I'm not bringing much, just my books and school stuff and the clothes I actually like and maybe some jewelry, even though I hate half the stuff she picked out for me, but I can always sell it if I need extra money, I guess. The rest she can keep, I never want to see it again."

"We'll help you pack. And Dad will buy you anything you need, like a new wardrobe and your own bed," Arista offered.

"I know. He told me he'd work a space warp spell on your room so I could have my own half of it. He also said that he's unofficially adopted me and I could call him Severus if I wanted when we weren't in school. But I think I'll stick with Professor for now, until I've gotten used to thinking of him as my guardian."

Arista grinned and hugged her. "Welcome to the family, Trish. I always wanted a sister."

"Me too," Trish said and hugged her back. "Hey, does this mean that now he'll make me some cool present for my birthday?"

"Uh huh. You're like his daughter now," Arista said.

"Aww, man! Can I move in here too? I'll sleep on the floor," Mel said, giving her friends a pleading look.

"You're nuts, Seton." Arista threw a pillow at her. "I'll tell him to make you a bracelet for your birthday. Because if he had to deal with three of us all the time, I think he'd have a stroke."

"You're right," Mel sighed. "The bills I run up on one shopping trip would probably make him keel over, never mind the rest of you. He'd be broke in a month." She bounced to her feet. "Let's go and get you moved out of hell, Greenbough, and into heaven."

"Amen to that!" Tricia laughed, and the haunted cast to her features vanished, to be replaced by her familiar sweet-natured grin.

* * * * * *  
About two weeks later, a large snowy owl glided to a landing on the garden gate of the Snape house with a large manila envelope from America. It was addressed to Severus Snape and it was postmarked July 25th. Arista and Trish, her best friend, were playing fetch with Scout in the backyard while Severus read Potions Weekly under the apple tree with Comfrey on his lap.

"Who's it from, Dad?" Arista asked, peering over the professor's shoulder. "The Flynns or the Amarottis?"

"Neither. It's from a DiSarno," he said opening the envelope.

"Marietta!" Arista laughed. "She really did write you."

Inside was a rather lengthy parchment written in Sandy's neat handwriting as well as a crayon drawing. The drawing was of a small house, a little girl with strawberry blond hair holding the leash of what looked like a black dog, and a tall man with black hair wearing a flag shirt and jeans. The picture was colored brightly, if inexpertly and underneath it in large childish print was the following caption: **Uncle Sev, Me, & Sevvy Love Marietta.**

"Aww! How sweet! She drew you a picture," Arista exclaimed.

"A really good one too," Trish observed. "How old is she, anyway?"

"Three and a half," Severus answered, handing the drawing to Arista. "She's a clever little scamp."

Arista examined the drawing and frowned in puzzlement. "That's weird. Wasn't the stuffed dog we gave her gold, Dad?"

"Of course, it was a stuffed magehound."

"Then why is Sevvy black in this picture?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she felt like coloring a black dog instead of a gold one." He unfolded the letter and began to read it. It began:

**Dear Uncle Sev,**

Mom wrote this letter for me 'cause I don't know how to spell all the big words yet. But I really wanted to tell you all about the adventures me and Sevvy have had since you left. I took him to school and everything. He's my best friend, except for you. I miss you lots and can't wait for next Fourth of July. I drew this picture for you in art class, my teacher gave it a gold star. Sevvy and I go everywhere together, I bought him a leash so he doesn't get lost. He sleeps with me at night and I'm not afraid of the dark when he's next to me. Maybe we'll come and visit you someday, Mom says. Tell Arista and Scout and Comfrey I miss them too.

XOXO,  
Marietta

Then, beneath that section was another letter, this time written by Sandy.

_Sev,_

I just had to write and tell you what a big difference that stuffed dog you gave her has made in my life. Since she got Sevvy, Marietta is much better behaved than she used to be. Not that she doesn't have her days, because she does, but on the whole she's less apt to throw tantrums over little things and she loves Sevvy to pieces. She brings him everywhere, I think she'd even take a bath with him if she could. She talks to him as if he were alive, and at dinner he sits at the table with her and we have to pretend to feed him like a real dog. Once I made the mistake of giving him some real food and Marietta said, "Mom, you know dogs can't eat spinach, it makes them sick!" But I guess she makes an exception for dessert, because Sevvy gets a piece of cake or whatever just like she does. 

"Of course he would, she's not dumb!" Severus chuckled. "That way she gets two desserts instead of one, the little minx."

_She makes up all kinds of stories with the dog, they've gone off to explore the Amazon and to the North Pole to visit Santa and to Africa on a safari and to Washington D.C. to meet the President. I don't know where she comes up with half of this stuff, she can't even read yet. But one day she disappeared from the yard while I was talking to a neighbor and I damn near had heart failure. I cast a locate spell as soon as I realized she was missing, and found her walking down the street, pulling Sevvy along behind her. I was so mad I nearly slapped her. "What were you doing, young lady? Running away from home?" I asked. But she said, "No. We weren't running away, Mom. Sevvy wanted to go to London, 'cause that's where Uncle Sev is. So we were walking there." I nearly fainted. Then of course I had to explain to her that London was too far to walk and she'd see you next Fourth of July, like you'd promised. Then I made her promise to never do anything like that again, and had her write to you instead._

She took Sevvy to preschool one day, it was the only time she did, because she got into a fight with another kid over him and punched him in the nose! She said he tried to steal Sevvy and take him home. I wouldn't doubt it, because the dog was the hit of her class. The preschoolers went completely nuts over him. All the kids wanted to hug him, they loved the way he had a heartbeat and made them happy. One mother wrote me the next day and asked me where she could get one, said her daughter was driving her crazy begging her for a dog just like Marietta's. She tried to buy her a regular stuffed magehound, but her kid had a fit, said it wasn't the same. Several other parents have contacted me since and wanted to know what charm was on the dog, because none of them could figure it out. They all tried to give their kids dogs like Sevvy, but all of them said their dogs were no good because they had no heartbeat and didn't love you back when you held them. You could make a fortune selling them if you wanted to, Sev. Half the preschoolers in the district want one. And what **is** that charm you used anyway?

After that little incident, Sevvy stayed home in her room, but as soon as she got home, off she went with him to play. It's wonderful the way she keeps herself amused now instead of pestering me to go somewhere or do something every five minutes, although when she does get into trouble, sometimes she blames the dog. "It was Sevvy's idea!" is an excuse I hear every day when she touches something she shouldn't or breaks something. Sevvy knocked over my Chinese vase, spilled a gallon of milk on the floor, played with my lipstick, and took my jewelry box for buried treasure on the pirate ship. And yes, she really buried it somewhere in the backyard. It took Paul and I hours to find it, God help us all.

Sometimes I think she could drive me to drink, I swear. But the best is yet to come. Paul invited his brother Eddie over for dinner one night and when he saw Marietta he asked how his favorite niece was, the way he usually did, since she's the only one he has. And my little imp, God help her, says bold as brass, "Well, you're not my favorite uncle, Uncle Sev is. He gave me Sevvy and took me to a dog show and I like him the best of all." I wanted to die right there. Luckily, Eddie wasn't offended, he even laughed about it, but I scolded her anyway, not that it did much good, because all she said afterwards was, "But it's true, Uncle Sev really is my favorite uncle." I gave up then, because she's got the Amarotti stubbornness in spades. At least she's honest.

Recently, Sevvy got a dye job, and now he's black instead of gold. Marietta got a hold of a can of black paint that Paul was using to paint the trim over the garage and somehow Sevvy fell in it. I think she did it on purpose, because she says that now he's got black hair like yours, Sev. One of her cousins teased her about it, saying there was no such thing as a black magehound. Marietta replied, "Well, there is now! So there!"

I never know what she's going to think up next, but I guess that's part of raising a child, some days they make you want to hug them and other days they give you a heart attack. With Marietta, I just pray I make it to old age.

Write back and let us know how you're doing, Marietta wants to see some pictures of Hogwarts, so please send us some if you've got any. I'll keep you updated on the Saga of Marietta and Sevvy. See you next Fourth!

Love,  
Sandy, Marietta, and Sevvy (of course!) 

_Dearest God, what have I started?_ Professor Snape groaned. _Next thing you know she'll be writing a book about me. Or maybe a whole series. I can just see it now. Uncle Sev, Marietta, and Sevvy Go to Hollywood, or the Moon, or Around the World. Based on true stories, heaven help me. _

He could picture hordes of eager preschoolers with their parents in tow descending upon his peaceful little house on Spinner's End, begging for an autograph, a picture, a signed copy of the latest book. If that ever happened he was moving to Antarctica, he vowed. Although even that probably wouldn't keep Marietta from finding him, the little minx, he thought fondly.

Arista and Trish were laughing hysterically over the letter, and then his daughter looked up at him and said, her eyes glinting with mischief, "What if one day she really _did _come to Hogwarts, Dad? Wouldn't that be something?"

"God help us all," Snape muttered. "The school would never be the same. And neither would I. I'd either be fired or dead of embarrassment."

"Come on, Dad. You're telling me you can't handle one little three year old?"

"That little three year old is capable of causing a national disaster. I don't even want to think about the trouble she'd cause at school. I've got all I can handle with you there, Arista, never mind Marietta."

"I hope the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher isn't some homicidal maniac like our last one," Trish said. "Got any idea who it might be, Professor?"

"No. I'll find out the same day you will."

"One thing I do know, is that whoever it is can't be any worse than Gilderoy Lockhart," Trish predicted. "The only thing he ever taught us was how to address fan mail."

"Guess we'll find out in September. If next year's anything like last year, it'll be full of surprises. Just like this summer," Arista said.

"Heaven forbid," she heard her father mutter under his breath.

She hid a grin. "You know, I just realized something. This summer ended the same way it began."

"How do you figure that?" Severus asked.

"Well, it began with a letter inviting us to Amelia's christening. And it ended with a letter from Marietta. We've come full circle."

"Is that good or bad?" Trish wondered.

"It's good," Arista replied. "As Trelawney would say, it shows that everything balances."  
"This once, I happen to agree with her." Severus put in.

"Now there's a first," Arista murmured. He shot her a mock-glare, and she smiled at him cheekily.

"Hey, I got an owl from Kit this morning," Trish announced. "He's back from visiting his relatives in Ireland and says he has loads to tell us."

"Bet he didn't have a summer like ours, though," Arista commented.

"You can say _that _again," Severus said feelingly. "This is one summer that none of us will ever forget."

Both of his girls agreed with him. Arista knelt to stroke Comfrey and thought, _Bring on the next year at Hogwarts, 'cause after this summer, I think we're ready for anything._

**A/N: well, here's the end of part two of my Arista and Sev saga. I'll be posting part three Arista Snape and the Ghosts in the Tower up soon as well as reposting the Christmas fic featuring everyone's favorite mischief maker, Marietta, since it posted all in one shot and I didn't realize it. Oops! **

**Meantime, check out POTIONS PRODIGY-for a mishap with a potion that de-ages Severus back to a four year old and now Arista & Trish have to raise their dad . . .until they can make the antidote!**

**Ghosts takes places during sixth year and has more of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco and Voldemort and the war between good and evil is resolved in this one with lots of battles, anguish and sorrow . . .but ultimately a happy ending. . .what else?**

**  
Thank all of you for your many wonderful reviews and Sev and I thank you! Chocolate frogs and gummy worms for all who review!  
**


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